Not to be Trifled With
by Crysty
Summary: Having grown up in Genovia, Princess Amelia is put out when she finds out that she is not going to the Universitie at Genovia for college, but Columbia University in New York...Of course M/M
1. Part 1

Not to be Trifled with  
  
By Crysty  
  
Disclaimer: I do not own any of these characters.in fact, the Swedish family is real, though I cannot pretend to know them either. So all in all, I don't own anything but this story itself. Please don't sue. I have no money.  
  
August 13  
  
Helen Thermopolis's Apartment  
  
The whole idea of a journal is utterly foreign to me, but as Grandmere is not here, and I am bursting with conflict right now, I must pretend that I am really talking to her.  
  
I miss her.  
  
Moving to New York does not appeal to me.  
  
Helen is not making it much easier.  
  
"I just think that overall, this is a really really really really bad idea..." Helen's telling my father.  
  
"Helen, she's been cooped up in a palace in a country the size of Delaware for the first 18 years of her life..."  
  
I hate this. She doesn't want me, and I don't want anything to do with her.  
  
I can tell my father is at his wit's end. Pretty sure that Helen is determined not to take me on, and hence will argue enough for the both of us, I sit back. A princess knows when to keep her mouth shut. So I'm sitting in the next room, writing this.  
  
"...the least you could do is get to know your own daughter."  
  
"I gave you guys the chance years ago. You guys turned it down, and so I started my own life. I don't need this now, Philipe."  
  
"You have little choice in the matter. Amelia is going to Columbia, and you are going to house her. I don't want her living in those dorms. Who knows what kind of shenanigans she'll cavort with."  
  
The Universitie at Genovia was perfectly fine for me. I don't understand why Father is so adamant, considering neither Helen nor I want this.  
  
"I might remind you that you and your mother had plenty to say against this place before..."  
  
I can see why. The place is a mess. Is that paint supposed to be all over the table as some sort of artistic statement, or is Helen just really this messy? I take out my handkerchief to wipe the perspiration from my forehead. It is unpleasantly hot here.  
  
A strange furry beast is staring at me out of the corner of the room. I believe it is a cat, but it looks so corpulent that it could be my imagination playing with one of Helen's artworks.  
  
But I'm pretty sure she's just a painter.  
  
Father is about to explode now, but calms down. Always the diplomat.  
  
"Look, despite appearances, my mother and I trust you. A long time ago, when Amelia was young, well...it was best that she was brought up in warmth and safety. Now that she is a grown woman, Amelia is a lady to the letter...but lacks a certain kind of..." he looks in my direction, so I pretend to be entirely focused in the progress of a spider up the wall. "...intelligence," he says softly.  
  
I resent that.  
  
"Amelia doesn't know about the blind man on the corner down the street who likes to grab at people, and she has no idea how to deal with the press. Helen, Amelia is a smart, charming girl, but...entirely clueless."  
  
I really resent that.  
  
"...she needs your guidance. She needs your sense. There is so much of you in her...you need to meet her. And she needs to discover what you've given her."  
  
There's silence in the other room, and somehow I get the feeling that not only have I been insulted by my own father (who does not even think much of me, apparently), but I have also lost my ally. Helen, I fear, is going to agree with him.  
  
Thus the end begins.  
  
August 16  
  
Starbucks Coffee  
  
"And so then she claims that I secretly want to be a boy, and that's why I am so much closer to Carl Philip than Victoria..."  
  
Maddy is ranting and raving.  
  
I love the Swedish Royal Family. Socializing with them always reminds me that as complicated as my family is, at least we're pretty static.  
  
Maddy is going through what her psychologist, Dr. Moscovitz the wife, claims is her "transitional" period. She's starting to achieve self- awareness, and is just embarking on the road to self-actuality.  
  
I never believe that psychology voodoo, but father and Helen want me to go and talk to the Drs. Moscovitz because they're worried about culture shock and other silly things.  
  
I don't pay much heed to any sort of analysis; I already know my home life is messed up, and I know that it's probably a result of the fact that my father and mother got pregnant without thinking, which is really just a statement of rebellion to the formal order of my father's early life, and indicative of the irresponsibility of the bohemian artists' lifestyle.  
  
The Drs. Moscovitz see everyone, and they're favorites with many royal families, including Maddy's. Father is friends with Dr. Moscovitz, the husband. Apparently Doc took my father through that difficult transition four years ago, when Father found out he could no longer have children.  
  
And so, the Drs. Moscovitz now see me as well.  
  
I haven't seen them yet. My Father keeps meaning to introduce me, but he gets busy and leaves me alone, and I hide.  
  
I do not want to be dissected, thank you very much.  
  
Grandmere would be on my side, except that they really were helpful when Father was going through that crisis.  
  
And so she tells me on the phone, "Amelia, you should do as your father tells you." And when Grandmere comes down with her imperious command, you really have nothing to do but to obey her.  
  
So here I am, half an hour before my appointment with the Drs. Moscovitz, passing the time away in Starbucks with Maddy because:  
  
1) I don't want to be in Helen's apartment. It is a mess.  
  
2) I don't want to be around Helen. She makes me feel uncomfortable.  
  
3) I can talk with Maddy. I can't talk with Helen.  
  
4) Starbucks is comforting. There was one around the corner from the Ladies' Academy back in Genovia that I used to always go to with Hannah. It is a comfort to know that wherever I go in this world (short of Borneo) there will always be a piece of home, and I can taste it every time I order a cappuccino.  
  
5) Lars was getting tired of staying around the Village. We both wanted a change of scenery.  
  
Lars is clearing his throat now, so I gather it is time for me to meet the famous Moscovitzs...both of them.  
  
Just how many problems does my Father expect me to encounter in my transition?  
  
Later  
  
Helen's Apartment  
  
I just called Grandmere to strongly urge her to let me go home, or at least for her to visit me. She denied me both because first, my Father was the one who controlled where I lived, and second, she was due for tea in Bora Bora with some shah.  
  
I tried calling Rene, but he was out cavorting with someone or other. Not that he'd be of much help, but least he could have laughed some with me.  
  
Helen is out on some date right now, and so is no help. Not that I truly expected to find any comfort with her.  
  
So instead, I am sitting here, ranting into a lifeless little book.  
  
More than anything, I wish I were back in Genovia, where I could just go and find someone to talk to.everyone wanted to hear about my day there. And I miss Grandmere dreadfully.  
  
So before I go any further, I suppose I should explain why I hate the Moscovitzs.  
  
Well, it's not exactly the doctors...of course, they are overanalytical (my orange Hermes scarf indicates nothing save for a healthy appreciation for the color orange) but it is, after all, what they are paid to do.  
  
No, it is their son. Mon dieu! What problems. I don't think I've ever met a more difficult person.  
  
The Drs. Moscovitz have two children. One, Lilly, my age, is studying how to be a reporter at NYU. I did not meet her. The other, Michael...  
  
I do not want to begin on Michael.  
  
But I shall.  
  
Why Michael Moscovitz is uncouth, unmannered and unsophisticated  
  
1) He did not bow when I was introduced with him.  
  
2) He was not wearing a shirt when I was introduced to him.  
  
3) He poured milk into a cereal box and drank out of it.  
  
4) He dined the said meal at 6 pm, well after breakfast.  
  
5) He smiles oddly.  
  
I cannot decide the last one truly for you, only to assert that his smile is not pleasing. It is disconcerting.  
  
None of this would be a problem, or certainly not enough to make me hate this place, if he weren't made to babysit me.  
  
How humiliating!  
  
His parents have asked him to watch over me and make sure that the culture shock does not traumatize me. Apparently, he is also to translate the Americanisms and explain the subtleties of this oh so complex culture.  
  
Even worse, he refused!  
  
Right off, in front of me (uncouth!), he refuses, and then lists the reasons why, in a quite blunt manner:  
  
Reasons Why Michael Moscovitz Will not Babysit me  
  
1) He wants no involvement with any of his parents' royal nutcases.  
  
2) He's a senior, and he's got better things to do.  
  
3) I'm a freshman, which makes me even less desirable company.  
  
4) I'm not interesting enough to make him want to entertain me.  
  
That one made me gasp aloud, to my horror. The look on my face must have been comical, because he laughed right there.  
  
Michael Moscovitz knows nothing about me.  
  
I know that a Princess knows how to stay silent, but at that point, I could not have stayed silent any longer. My heart demanded retribution.  
  
"You know nothing of me, Michael Moscovitz. If you did, you would have known that I did not want to be fixed up with a self-absorbed, arrogant, unpolite and unmannered hooligan for a guide. And for propriety's sake, get a shirt on!"  
  
Shocked that I had such an outburst, I had to leave. Lars had taken my arm at the point and put his hand on my arm. We left soon after. He still looks at me and chuckles every once in a while.  
  
What is wrong with me? I've put up with guests and diplomats even surlier than he. Even more insulting. Grandmere would be ashamed, but I must say in my own defense that I was provoked, and the Renaldo blood boiled to be championed. And as there was no gentleman in the room to do so for me, I had to take the matter in my own hands.  
  
Ok, so maybe the look of shock on young Moscovitz's face was kind of funny.  
  
Hee.  
  
August 20  
  
Library  
  
I can't study in here. The study group a table away is extremely loud and annoying.  
  
Trying to understand calculus isn't working.  
  
Will I ever need to use calculus for that matter?  
  
I know that I've usually taken whatever Father told me for law...  
  
But I hardly see how integrating the natural log of 1/x is going to help me with my future as the ruler of Genovia.  
  
I hear my name.  
  
Later  
  
Helen's Apartment  
  
It was Michael, and his parents wanted me to go to dinner, to see how my first week of classes went.  
  
More likely, they wanted to psychoanalyze me again.  
  
So instead of spending my Friday evening with Maddy and her older brother Carl Philip, who are in town for the weekend doing fun things like going to the opera, or visiting with our friend Boris over at Julliard, I am picking at neutral words that could not possibly construed in an odd way, and avoiding conversation with a young man that I was quite abominable to the last time I had encountered him.  
  
You'd think that he'd have some sort of social life, and he'd be out. After all, his sister Lilly (who I have yet to meet but do not have any desire to, if she is anything like her brother) was out.  
  
But he was there, smiling his strange smile, and because it was expected of me (not by the Moscovitzs of course, but by my own upbringing), I approached Michael and offered an apology after dinner, while he was doing the dishes.  
  
It went somewhat like this:  
  
Me: Hello? Are you busy?  
  
Michael: Kind of, I'm doing dishes.  
  
Me: Can I help?  
  
Michael (sarcastically): I couldn't imagine dirtying those elegant hands...  
  
Me (in contempt of him, rolling back my sleeves back): I think that my delicate hands will be fine...  
  
(silence)  
  
Me: Michael, I wanted to talk to you.  
  
Michael: Talk, then.  
  
Me: It was very rude of me to say the things I did to you the last time we met. I apologize.  
  
Michael: Sure.  
  
(silence)  
  
Michael: Can you pass me those dishes?  
  
And then he didn't say anything! Not even an apology for his own horrid behavior!  
  
I stood around, patiently waiting, but eventually I noticed he was smiling strangely again, and figured that he was internally mocking me. So I left.  
  
But I wasn't apologizing just so that I could get an apology out of him. No, noble people always admit their mistakes.  
  
August 23  
Helen Thermopolis's Apartment  
  
I don't think I'll ever get used to living with Helen.  
  
Last night Helen decided to stay in and cook dinner. She invited her boyfriend, Franklin ("call me Frank"). It was all obviously an elaborate plan for the two of us to meet.  
  
Helen's talent seems to lie in art. I feel she should stay out of the kitchen, and was tempted to tell her so when she announced her intentions yesterday morning. But alas, a Princess does not make such petty remarks.  
  
But Franklin is a true gentleman, for he showed up about an hour and half early, and hustled Helen out of the kitchen before the frozen corn had finished defrosting in the microwave.  
  
Franklin's quite entertaining. He teaches algebra at Albert Einstein High School, and has volunteered to help me with my calculus. Franklin also has an excellent warm sense of humor, and makes Helen laugh a lot.  
  
I like him. I like her, too. They suit each other well. Looking at the way Franklin adores her, though, it's very easy to see why my father and Helen never quite worked out. Helen's an apple-scented candle. Warm, sweet and somewhat tangy. My father.he's a cigar. Cuban.  
  
I don't think that quite made sense, and my only excuse is that I've been around Helen all evening, and I tend to pick up strange habits around her.  
  
She was watching Baywatch when I got home from classes today. The beast that I've since discovered is indeed a cat, and names Fat Louie, was curled up in her lap. She watches the show religiously, which I don't quite understand. The show is the most popular in the world, but I for one had never seen any merit to it.  
  
Until today.  
  
Strangely enough, Helen and I spent all this afternoon watching daytime television and made-for-TV movies. It's extraordinary, really, the crap that's aired.  
  
Even more extraordinary is my strange fascination with it.  
  
We stumbled into reruns of 80s shows at around at 11:00, when I realized I ought to do some readings for my Environmental Policy class for tomorrow.  
  
"Good night, Mia," Helen said as I got up from the couch.  
  
I paused mid-action momentarily and tested the name. Mia.  
  
Helen blushed. "I always called you that.you know, in my head."  
  
"I like it. Good night." I was about to say Helen, but realized that it didn't seem appropriate. But neither did Mother or Mom. So instead, I just left it dangling.  
  
August 30  
Helen's Apartment  
  
I met the other young Moscovitz today.  
  
I was early for my session. I think the biggest surprise had to be when Boris opened the door.  
  
"Amelia!"  
  
"Boris? Do you see the Moscovitzs too?" I asked, completely confused; what problems would Boris, a world-famous, extremely talented violinist, have that he'd need therapy?  
  
"Ur.I see Lilly. We went to high school together."  
  
The sound of a choked sob brought both of us out of our confused conversation.  
  
"I think I'm needed." Boris said.  
  
Curious about the last member of the Moscovitz family, I decided to follow him to the TV room.  
  
She was sobbing at the end of Roman Holiday, when Gregory Peck and Audrey Hepburn meet not as a pair of lovers, but in their true identities, as princess and reporter at the end. As Audrey smiled her faint mysterious smile one last time, the young woman blew her nose into a fresh tissue that Boris offered to her. He bundled her up into his arms.  
  
It was if he was handling his violin. I'd never seen this side of Boris before.  
  
"I knew I should have stopped it when their day finished.this part always breaks my heart. I wish it had ended differently."  
  
"Movies don't usually affect you this way."  
  
"This one does.it's just such an injustice, a travesty.they're just so beautiful together, and you know that it's just so meant to be, and then.and then.she should have run off with him, or something."  
  
"She had to do her duty to her people," I supplied.  
  
The girl turned to me, seeing me for the first time, at the same time quickly wiping her tears away. "Ah, spoken by one who should know." she said, wryly.  
  
"Lilly, this is my friend the." Boris began.  
  
"I'm Amelia Renaldo." I curtseyed, and offered my hand.  
  
"Lilly Moscovitz," she stood to take my hand.  
  
Lilly is half a foot shorter than me, and I wondered at how she seemed so much bigger when she spoke. It's a gift only few have, really. My Grandmere being the only other person I know with that ability.  
  
"Duty, huh?" she was saying.  
  
Still speaking of the movie, I see.  
  
Roman Holiday is one of the most beautifully frightening movies I've ever seen in my life. I'd watch it in horror, praying to whatever forces there were out there that I'd never find myself in such a situation.that I'd meet someone suitable and perhaps fall in love with him, afterwards, because I know from the example of my parents what happens when duty and love come into conflict.  
  
I cleared my throat. "I think that she made the right decision. If she abdicated the throne, she would not have been able to live with herself. If he had decided to marry her, he would not have been able to perform the duties necessary to being her consort."  
  
"But I'd think that he'd be more than able to accomplish his duties as husband."  
  
I turned to the newest participant in our conversation, smiling that odd smile of his, with his sparkling laughing eyes. He was carrying a bookbag, so it appeared he was either on his way out or had just gotten back. I hoped it was the former.  
  
"And what are the duties of a husband other than to work with his wife in building a stable, suitable life for the both of them?" I asked.  
  
"To love, honor and obey her. As she does for him," he drawled slowly.  
  
And that's when this strange palpitation started in my heart. It's akin to having your stomach flipped over.I had a similar feeling the first night I came to the Moscovitz residence, but I thought it was Helen's cooking.  
  
But the last time I had eaten Helen's cooking was two days ago.  
  
There was a pressure building in my heart and heat in my cheeks. It was all caused by his disconcerting gaze.  
  
I had hoped he'd be a gentleman and stop looking at me.  
  
But instead he stepped more into the room, and held my eyes.  
  
My heart started beating again, but it was heavy, and loud. I couldn't even hear my thoughts.  
  
I have been taught my Grandmere to mask my emotions, and I am quite good at it. I send him an amused smile. "Pfuit!" I imitated her. "Drivel. Just love is not enough," I say lightly, though the words are slow to come to my lips.  
  
He was still coming towards me, holding my gaze, and somehow I don't think I fooled him with my flippancy. "Strong words. I take it they've been tested."  
  
"I have had the shining example of my parents," I said sarcastically, trying not to sound breathless.  
  
We were only breaths away from each other now. "But you, you've never been in love?" he asked.  
  
For one infinitesimal second, I could not answer. The words were formed in my mind. "You have no business to ask that."  
  
But I couldn't voice my thoughts. His gaze held me ensnared in.him.  
  
As I write this, I realize the completely idiocy of this. It discomforts me that he can do this to me, that he can pique this strange appetite.for.  
  
I do not know for what. I only know that at that one moment, I really wanted to know Michael Moscovitz, find out what he thought about marrying for love, about his ideal for a marriage.  
  
And that frightened me out of my daze. Me? Infatuated? The thought itself was quite inexcusable, seeing as I thought I was safe from such frivolities. But even more unsupportable was that.he was an American. A brash young unccourth American. Not even royalty.  
  
As soon as that unpleasant thought appeared in my mind, I inwardly laughed. I gave him a sarcastic smile. "I'm not supposed to."  
  
Then Dr. Moscovitz the husband came in to bid me go with him. I smiled politely to Lilly and Boris, but didn't bother to look in Michael's direction. Then I left.  
  
It was a completely exhausting episode, and it only made me quite reticent to the Drs. Moscovitz.  
  
It's just a silly game to him. He's always playing silly games with his strange secret unsettling smile. Thinking of jokes that he'll never share. I hate people like that. They always make me wonder if they are laughing at me.  
  
But I don't do anything that merits a laugh. I was brought up to be a lady, a flawless, elegant lady.  
  
I do not like Michael Mozcovitz. He can take his dark mesmerizing eyes elsewhere, because this Princess is completely out of his league. 


	2. Part 2

Author's Note: Thanks for the reviews! =)  
  
~September 6: My bedroom, Helen's Apartment~  
  
I've been feeling quite peculiar lately.  
  
I fear that I am lonely.  
  
These emotions are taking a strange toll on my schoolwork; I find I cannot concentrate on anything, really. I will start on a paper, and have the strangest urge to play sad music, or contemplate sad thoughts.  
  
Reading Hemingway does that to a person, so at first I did not find the sensation odd. When reading sad books, I often find that they do not let me go as easily as I let go of them. A perpetual gloominess inevitably clouds my better sentiments for a good many days.  
  
Normally, a bit of Jane Austen would get me out of it.  
  
But as I sat up in bed just now, curled up over -Pride & Prejudice-, I found that I could not even concentrate on that. It was if the sadness had overtaken a different part of me, and not even my mind. It had gripped my heart.  
  
And I could not escape it, even in dreams.  
  
Suddenly tired with Austen, I tossed the book aside, determined that if I could not find escape from thoughts in reading then I would find my sanctuary in dreams.  
  
But I was restless, and now I'm writing once more.  
  
I try not to write in this book that often. It is disturbing that my closest friend, my confidant, is an inanimate little book that cannot advise me.  
  
But there is no one here.  
  
~September 10: Calculus Class~  
  
I should be paying attention, but lord knows how much I actually care about integration by parts.  
  
Helen came to my room last night with a cup of hot cocoa brewed for me, claiming she saw the light on, and that she thought I was still studying and needed a break.  
  
I suspect she knows that I am feeling lonely.  
  
Normally, that she knows would make me feel like a weaker person, but at the moment she came in, smiling, with Fat Louie following her, I just could not hide the pure joy of having a companion in my lonely night.  
  
The cat curled up on my lap (my legs legs fell asleep that way, crushed under his astronomical weight, but I didn't care) and allowed me to pet him, purring his approval, while Helen told strangely delightful tales of her latest adventures in her studio, over an exhibit that is to open in a few weeks' time.  
  
I ended up telling her a little bit myself, about calculus, about my weekly sessions with the Moscovitzs, about meeting my friend Boris at the apartment. I was about to tell her about Michael, but for some reason, I felt a strange hesitation.  
  
Nor did I want to tell her that I missed Genovia terribly.  
  
She knew though. And it showed in her eyes, in that caring soft manner that both touches me and irks me.  
  
I do find my heart to be not turned against her, but I still cannot allow myself to be comfortable with her.  
  
And now I am in class, only half awake, for I stayed up too late last night with Helen...but I don't care.  
  
I shall be tired when I meet with the Moscovitzs today, but I am not inclined to inform them of the sentiments that haunted me last night. I think it's bad enough that Helen knows.  
  
~September 14: My Bedroom, Helen's Apartment~  
  
Rene is here!  
  
He came in the middle of my session with the Drs. Moscovitz, like the prince he is, and rescued me from a particularly annoying set of questions regarding my sentiments towards Helen.  
  
I had been trying to tiptoe my way out of a frank unpleasant answer to a question when there was a knock on the door and Michael peered in.  
  
"There's someone here for the princess."  
  
I hate it when he says that word. There's a bite to it that shows a blatant disrespect for my title, my life, and even my character. It is not pleasant at all, and accompanied with that awful smile of his I can see that it is meant to mock and annoy.  
  
And so, of course I shot him my most imperious glance, and with an elegant lift of an eyebrow (I am especially good at this, Grandmere tells me) I did not even deign to respond to him verbally.  
  
I think Michael was going to stand there and wait for the acknowledgment, but he was deprived of that joy when I saw the tall familiar shadow over his shoulder.  
  
"Rene!" I almost threw myself into his arms, but hesitated as I recalled my station. Instead, I enthusiastically approached him, allowed him to take me in his arms as we exchanged kisses and warm greetings. "What are you doing here?"  
  
He shot a careful glance at the Drs. Moscovitz and I knew his reasons as he did not want to utter them in front of them: he came for me. He came because he knew I needed him to be here.  
  
"I have a pleasant surprise: Victoria and Madeline are in town with me, and I've reserved a box for Boris's performance tonight!"  
  
Brilliant! "Oh Rene, that's delightful!" I smiled.  
  
Rene then addressed the Drs. Moscovitz. "Please excuse the interruption, but I have not seen my little cousin for quite a number of months now, and was desperate to see her. I hope you wouldn't mind if I kidnapped her and spoiled her for a bit?"  
  
It wouldn't have mattered if they had denied his request, for I had already grabbed my purse and Rene was already steering me towards the door.  
  
"I guess we'll just have to talk about this next week. Goodbye, Dr. Moscovitz and Dr. Moscovitz! Michael," I sent him a grudging acknowledgement, which caused much teasing and unmerited curiosity from Rene.  
  
And now, I shall prepare for the concert with Victoria, Madeline, and Rene! Oh how lovely it shall be myself again!  
  
~Later: Intermission, Joan and Sanford I. Weill Recital Hall, Carnegie Hall~  
  
"Shall I interest you in some wine, Victoria?" Rene sent me a wink at the start of intermission.  
  
"I'd love some."  
  
"I'd love some as well!" Maddy exclaimed. Poor girl, I suspect, she has a bit of a crush on my cousin.  
  
Dear dear Rene.  
  
"Are you sure you'll be able to get some, darling?" I say to her. "Remember, the age is twenty-one here..."  
  
Maddy sent me a careless laugh. "I forgot! Well I shall do fine with some Perrier then. I am thirsty!"  
  
And so, I laughed and begged off for their little excursion saying I was perfectly fine without any refreshment.  
  
It's been a delightful evening thus far, really. After an exquisite dinner at db Bistro Moderne (no one does fine dining like the French!) we enjoyed a slow drive to Carnegie Hall.  
  
Boris's performance this evening featured a variety of Bruch and Beethoven. I personally love his performance of the Bruch Concerto No. 1, since the first time I had heard him perform it for my family and countrymen so long ago, when I was thirteen.  
  
Listening to him, I was wont to recall my life back then, a pleasant carefree thing. Back when Swedish princesses were not vying for Rene's attentions, before any of us had any sort of heavy responsibilities that required more than half a mind to fix. I allowed my mind to drift, to fly from these thoughts, to wonder how my life would be different if I had stayed in Genovia. Would I still feel so serious?  
  
That's when I saw them.  
  
More specifically him. Because he's the first one I saw.  
  
Michael Moscovitz in a tuxedo sitting in a box across from me, with an exasperating smile, as he turned from me, leaned into his sister, and whispered into her ear.  
  
Lilly's presence made sense; undoubtedly, she was there to see Boris.  
  
But Michael...  
  
~Later: Limousine, en route to the Moscovitzs'~  
  
I was interrupted just then by Lilly and Michael, who decided to say hello.  
  
At least, Lilly was saying hello. Michael simply accompanied his sister, with many words unsaid, but many thoughts implied.  
  
It was highly uncomfortable. There were many things I would not have minded saying to Lilly, but with her brother around, I knew he was just waiting to laugh at the first sentiment I uttered.  
  
I was then saved from unnecessary musings on the weather by the entrance of Maddy who had decided to give up on my cousin for now.as a blonde New England socialite appeared to also catch his attention.  
  
(Dearest Rene...what a flirt!)  
  
She smiled politely at the Moscovitzs, knowing them because of her own association with their parents.  
  
And then we simply sat in silence!  
  
When the lights flashed on and off, Lilly and Michael made their excuses. They were about to leave the box when Lilly turned around and extended an invitation to their apartment, to both of us.  
  
I did not have time to answer before Michael shoved her out of the box.  
  
After the ballet, Maddy had forgotten about the invitation entirely, exiting quickly, saying something about going to bed early to catch a flight out of New York early tomorrow morning.  
  
And so I was left alone.  
  
So why am I going to the Moscovitzs' now?  
  
Because of Boris, of course.  
  
~September 19: The Savoy, London~  
  
It's about time I got to get away!  
  
Father worries that I need time for my studies, etc., but honestly I don't care! I needed to leave: be away!  
  
I'm going to dinner tonight with Wills. Finally, to be able to drink wine without strange "Are you of age?" stares! To be able to sit with people my own age who can appreciate a properly prepared foie gras!  
  
I shall be here for a week; father growled in disapproval over the phone when I told him of my plans (after I had already arrived), but he shamelessly spoils me anyhow.  
  
London's just so...perfect! Just stepping off the plane made me feel a lot better. It was as if a dark gray cloud had suddenly dissolved away, leaving this golden light heady feeling.  
  
A place where people drive on the left side of the road, where the posh accent just surrounds you in this nice complaisance, where tea is served afternoon (properly!) and where people have respect for nobility!  
  
Ah! I shall enjoy a long hot bath before I prepare for dinner!  
  
~September 21: The Savoy, London (still, hurrah!) ~  
  
There is in me a shred of awareness that I have a problem set in calculus due this week, some time.  
  
But I don't care!  
  
It is so delightful just to be a princess again! Today I attended one breakfast, two brunches, two luncheons, and four afternoon teas, all given in my honor!  
  
I do so love being appreciated!  
  
Maddy joined me for some of the engagements today; her in a nice pink suit, and me in a light blue one: we complemented each other quite well. We met with Rene for a coffee break after the last tea, and there was such a fuss outside the café!  
  
It'd happened more than enough when we were young and I have to say that I took it for granted; never was I as happy as I was this afternoon, being acknowledged for the person I was and the responsibilities I had. Honestly, more than ever, I just wanted to finish with stupid Columbia and get on with my life!  
  
I am to deliver a speech on trade relations and Genovia's eventual adaptation of the Euro tomorrow afternoon!  
  
Trade! Genovian economics! Those I can do.  
  
Calculus...  
  
Yes, I know. I've been trying. Looking at this mess of scribbles before me, though, I can't understand a bit, and it's just not as fun or productive as other things I could be doing with my time.  
  
If it weren't for the fact that Father was here now, I would have never settled down this afternoon to sit in front of stupid boring book for two hours. No, when Father had rung my cell, I was still happily chatting away the late afternoon with my friends. My true friends!  
  
There is no one like Maddy or Rene at Columbia. In fact, I can't say that I've exactly found anyone to eat lunch with (aside form Lars, but he doesn't count because we've been eating lunch together since I was in boarding school). I can't say I've found anyone at Columbia. I certainly don't know anyone, aside from Horrid Michael; I don't have the time. I go to class, I go to the Moscovitz's, and then I go back to Helen's. On weekends, I attend whatever benefit or charity my father and my personal assistant Genevieve (who gets to stay in Genovia, fortunate girl!) has lined up, or if I am so fortunate, a friend comes to visit.  
  
It's not as if I-  
  
~Later: Grandmere's limousine~  
  
Grandmere is the best! Oh how I missed her!  
  
I had just shoved my journal under my calculus notebook in a rush (I thought my father was checking on me before he left for his dinner engagement) when Grandmere entered resplendent in Givenchy!  
  
She declared studying calculus to be quite unbecoming of a princess, and promptly decided to take me with her to a late dinner at (prepare yourself for this one) Le Gavroche!  
  
And now I am home, warm with the rosy afterglow that only a dinner prepared by Michel Roux can ever induce.  
  
Of course, I am stuffed, and feel as if I'll have to spend hours in the gym to work this off, but...  
  
...I don't care!  
  
~September 22: Heathrow Airport, London (but not for long.)~  
  
It is incredibly unfair!  
  
My stay in London has been shortened two days, and why? Because Father discovered I had a calculus exam in three days!  
  
I knew I had an exam in three days; I had planned for my return appropriately, and was I not studying only last night? And now I cannot give my speech on Trade and Economics, and I've been forced to be rude!  
  
I hardly see why I have to return to New York to study for the exam. I can just as easily hole myself up in my room at the Savoy. It's cleaner than Helen's apartment. London just makes me happier than New York.  
  
I just don't understand why I can't continue my studies at Oxford instead.  
  
But no, Father is being a stubborn fool and forcing me to return to dirty, American New York, to study CALCULUS.  
  
Maddy does not have to study calculus. Victoria never had to study calculus.  
  
But Amelia Renaldo shall know all sorts of useless information!  
  
~Later (How can it still be September 16? I've been awake for 20 hours!): Helen's Apartment, New York~  
  
My only consolation is that Fat Louie is now happily installed in my lap.  
  
I am going to have him imprisoned.  
  
Not Fat Louie. Who do you think? Who else? Michael Moscovitz!  
  
It is because of him that I am back here.  
  
Apparently, Helen had gotten a phone call from the Moscovitzs, asking how I was, and if I was coming along in my studies, as the first run of exams were coming up.  
  
And of course, feeling disgustingly responsible, Helen tattled!  
  
I am surrounded by children.  
  
When I heard the tale, I was tempted to go immediately over to the Moscovitzs and tell off their son for not minding his own affairs, but I realized soon that by going there I'd only be psychoanalyzed again.  
  
And instead I decided to use the situation to my advantage; until next week, I am more than preoccupied with my studies and hence unable to meet with them (or their son)!  
  
That, I see, is the only good that has come out of this. That and Fat Louie's comforting embrace.  
  
~Later: Still Helen's Apartment~  
  
What do you think? Helen tried to make peace with me!  
  
I am disgusted! What makes her think that I would possibly want to forgive her for ruining my vacation?  
  
I am still a princess, after all is said in done, so of course I can't just rage and yell at her as I want. I couldn't help but pout a bit, however.  
  
I know it wasn't truly her fault; no, it's Father's and Michael's. She was simply following orders given by my Father (which are never to be disobeyed, as idiotic as they are) and acting upon information given to her by Michael.  
  
And oh, I shall deal with Michael.  
  
But not now. I shall relish in this extended vacation from him and his parents.  
  
~September 28: Library~  
  
I am now in the midst of a crisis situation. I do believe this is the worst I've ever felt in my entire life.  
  
I failed my calculus exam.  
  
FAILED.  
  
I'd done pretty bad in the past on algebra, but I'd never failed.  
  
I'd never failed at anything in my life.  
  
And now I'm hiding in the library because I don't want to go back to Helen's, because she'll ask me how my day went, and I'm not sure I can hide this, or my distress. And inevitably Father will find out and there will be no way I'll have fun ever again in my college life! (It wasn't all that much fun before, but without the sporadic trips to London, I do believe I shall go mad!)  
  
It's not as if I didn't study. It's just that I had my biology problem set, and a paper for my European history class to write as well. There was just a lot to do, and not much time to do it, and as I find biology and history definitely more interesting than calculus, isn't it obvious what was going to be neglected?  
  
And I did study; it's just a useless esoteric subject no one but engineers and scientists need. And I'm too well-dressed for that! Oh, and in addition to that, there is that little matter that I've already got an occupation: PRINCESS!  
  
But I really don't want to fail Calculus. If I do, I fear that I'd have to take it again. I apparently need it for an economics major, which I do believe would be useful. What calculus is used in economics for I don't know. It's probably part of that statistics part that I don't quite know about yet.  
  
Why is it these useful things have to be so painfully obtained?  
  
~October 1: Helen's~  
  
My sessions with the Moscovitzs recommenced today.  
  
And to make sure I didn't hide, they sent their son to hunt me down after calculus class. I was forced to endure a ten-minute walk back to the apartment with him. Silent, of course!  
  
I had decided that the greatest insult I could ever do unto Michael Moscovitz was to entirely ignore him and not acknowledge his meddling in my affairs. To yell at him would only goad him into doing it again. And hence I simply decided to show him that I didn't care what he did or thought; I was going to adhere to my own agenda, and he and Father could just forget about controlling my destiny.  
  
He seemed perfectly fine with my silence however, as he insipidly whistled as we walked. I wanted to tell him he looked like an idiot.  
  
We made for an odd pair; me in my neat sweater and skirt, he in his T-shirt and jeans. It only went to show how different we were, and how against God's plan our meeting was. Lars chuckled occasionally, but I wasn't going to dignify that with a response.  
  
Men can be so idiotic.  
  
My frustrations with dealing with young Moscovitz without resorting to childish behaviors did take my mind off my preoccupations with Calculus, which I have been hesitant to even look at, so I suppose his presence was useful in its own way, if not in the immediately obvious one.  
  
The session itself was almost anticlimactic after the angst I've had to endure these past few days; Father has suspended use on all my credit cards and I have no income of my own and has forbidden me from seeing my friends (Lars has been informed that he is to be notified immediately should I violate this decree.)  
  
After the session, we returned here, and now I suppose I ought to study, but quite honestly I am too put out! 


	3. Part 3

~October 5: Helen's~  
  
Preposterous!  
  
I'm sure, dear journal, that it may seem that I am discontent most of the time, and the truth of it all, well, I am!  
  
I am not happy at all here in the States. Father's most recent decree has made me most miserable. Without Maddy to complain to, I really am quite at a loss. I would e-mail her, but Maddy is not an e-mail kind of person. (Neither am I, but that's beside the point.) None of my friends are. In fact the only person I know who e-mails is Michael Moscovitz (he reminds me when I have appointments with his parents) and there's no way I'll ever e- mail him.  
  
The lack of intellectual stimulation (true intellectual stimulation, not this pesky calculus drivel) is killing me. Aside from Helen, Frank, and Lars, the only people I really am allowed to interact with are my classmates and the family Moscovitz.  
  
And I don't think any party is particularly appealing. I lack a confidant.  
  
I need a confidant.  
  
Instead, I am alone, and I wallow in this loneliness. Quite unbecoming of a princess, I am sure, but that is no matter, as no one will see me anyhow.  
  
~October 8: Helen's~  
  
I am so angry I do not even know where to begin!  
  
The nerve! I just can't believe he and then...  
  
I'm trying to calm myself but it is quite difficult; never have I been more frustrated in my life.  
  
He really is the most abominable person in the world!  
  
And I don't think I need to write his name for you to know who I mean! In fact, I'm pretty sure that an attempt to write his name would only result in violent slashes across this harmless book and I know better than to take my feelings out on parties completely uninvolved.  
  
But he angers me SOOOOOOOOOO much!  
  
I can't write. My hands are trembling. I must, MUST do something else right now.  
  
~Later: Starbucks~  
  
I am still feeling quite poorly but that cannot be helped; I shall feel poorly until...well I don't know.  
  
Lars is in line purchasing me a latte.  
  
I am not sure I can write about this without becoming angry, but I shall try.  
  
Today I was just sitting by myself during lunch, trying to understand my notes to put together a problem set for calculus when He came up to my table and helped Himself to chair and reluctantly said "I heard you have problems with calculus."  
  
It was painfully obvious He was not there of His own free will. And as if I'd ever accept charity from Him! I very quickly let Him know that his offered help was neither desired nor appreciated.  
  
Then He just sent that infuriating lazy smile of His and said, "Are you implying that you're too good for my help?"  
  
Stupid cocky smile. Stupid cocky Michael.  
  
"If I was given the choice between lowering myself to ask for YOUR help, and suffering a long painful term of calculus by myself only to fail despite all my efforts, I STILL would not give you the satisfaction," I managed coldly.  
  
"What bugs you more: the fact that you're failing or the fact that a poor scrub like me knows more than you?"  
  
"I never denied your intelligence. When you set yourself up for YOUR kind of lifestyle, you really need to-" I looked up then and saw that He was in fact still smiling and His eyes were twinkling with impertinent humor. He was not taking me seriously at all! "Will you stop that!?!"  
  
"I can't help myself."  
  
"Do try. It is quite ungentlemanly of you, not to mention it gets on my nerves."  
  
"I don't really care whether or not you find me irritating."  
  
"I never presumed you-" I started but was interrupted when (get this) He LAUGHED. IN MY FACE.  
  
"Oh yes you did. Look Princess, I've seen brats from this side of Manhattan to the other side of Hong Kong and I have to say you are a piece of work."  
  
"You insufferable...beast!"  
  
At this point I realized that I actually uttered the sentiment aloud and LOUDLY, and that the entire dining hall was looking at us now. But Michael was not bothered by this; in fact, He was slumped over his side of the table, laughing more.  
  
Jerk!  
  
Mortified, I gathered up my notes, crammed them into my bag and summoned Lars, who was careful not to show his own sentiments towards my actions. (I don't even what to know what he was thinking.)  
  
And when I got into the car to be driven back to Helen's, I discovered that I had left behind my textbook!  
  
HE probably has it.  
  
I'd rather buy a new copy than ask Him for it back.  
  
~October 9: Moscovitz residence, bathroom~  
  
Just when I thought it wasn't going to get any worse.  
  
When I entered the Moscovitz residence this afternoon, Horrid Michael was fortunately out, but upon entering the study I saw the stupid calculus book on the desk and Dr. Moscovitz the wife said, "Is there something you'd like to tell us about?"  
  
To which I completely lost my mind! I don't even remember what I said, really. I believe I uttered strong sentiments against speaking to anyone about anything, or at least finding someone who wasn't paid to listen. Then I ran out of the room and into here.  
  
This is most definitely not princess-like behavior.  
  
I don't even know what's come over me. Why all this show of emotion? It's highly undignified. Not to mention irrational, unreasonable, and completely lacking in discretion.  
  
I am ashamed, and I am only glad that Grandmere cannot see me now.  
  
Now what am I supposed to do? I don't even know what I want to do...  
  
...except maybe find Michael's toothbrush and drop it in the toilet.  
  
There I go again! Irrational childish sentiments!  
  
I wish I had someone to talk to. Someone to talk me out of these strange moods. Someone who will-  
  
~Later: Helen's~  
  
Lilly knocked on the door just then, yelling "Micheal, get out! I'm going out tonight and I have to take a shower!"  
  
Reluctantly, I opened the door.  
  
"Oh, hi Ame- I mean your-er--"  
  
"Amelia."  
  
"Amelia," she replied.  
  
I hadn't cried (yet) but I suppose my discontent must have shown. "Are you all right?"  
  
I stiffened. "I'm fine."  
  
"Don't give me that crap, er...nonsense, I mean. Something's wrong," Lilly said, grabbing my arm. "And you're going to tell me about it after I call Boris."  
  
"I don't want to be psychoanalyzed, Lilly."  
  
"I didn't think so. If you had wanted that, you would have been talking to my parents. Come on. You can do your nails or something..."  
  
"Myself?"  
  
I know: it was a stupid question to ask.  
  
So we went into her room. Before Lars could follow, she sent him a look and told him he ought to take a break, perhaps go out for dinner. Then she called Boris and cancelled her plans for tonight, fortunately not mentioning my name, but simply that a friend of hers was having a difficult time.  
  
Then we sat down, and Lilly took out the nail polish. At first we just worked on our nails a bit (Isabelle would have had a fit if she saw my nails; I suppose it is just as well she is back in Genovia) and Lilly mindlessly talked a bit of her own life. She's got a bigot of a Literature professor and is having quite a bit of angst over trying to write a paper for him that expresses her views but does not simultaneously anger him (this task is difficult, as all her views are in direct opposition with his).  
  
Then I told her of my calculus woes, of my failing the last exam. I didn't tell her my father's punishments, however; some things one just has to keep to herself.  
  
She innocently suggested I ask Michael for help, as he is good at that sort of thing, but I quickly side-stepped the issue by asking her something about nail polish.  
  
Because I am never going to talk to Lilly about her brother.  
  
~October 16: Biology~  
  
I have yet another calculus exam coming up in two weeks, and I am determined to do well, if only so that Father will stop imposing these silly restrictions upon me.  
  
Life remains as uneventful as ever; it is nice that every once in a while, Lilly and I will spend some time together. She's not like Maddy, of course, but Lilly is charming and entertaining in her own way.  
  
I hardly see Michael now and I confess it is partly because I avoid him. Some encounters are inescapable; for instance, our semiweekly meetings at the Moscovitzs' when I go to see his parents for my appointments. But even then I merely ignore him.  
  
Calculus remains completely a mystery to me. I've tried, I've studied, and I've marked little improvement in my understanding.  
  
I need to find someone who understands this drivel.  
  
Who isn't Michael.  
  
~October 18: Helen's~  
  
Helen's Franklin has volunteered to teach me calculus!  
  
We started on it after dinner tonight. While I can't say that I miraculously understand it all now, I can admit I at least understand it better than I did before (that doesn't imply much, but it's significant improvement).  
  
So now at least there's progress. I only hope that there is enough. I'm not sure how much longer I can go without Maddy and the ballet, and the opera...  
  
~October 24: Helen's~  
  
One week to go and calculus is looking better. I called Maddy last night and we complained for a while about our lives; she's having some problems with a persistent Spanish ambassador's son.  
  
I guess I thought I'd hear about something else, but really, I suppose Maddy doesn't have the same difficulties that I do, like calculus or eating with the bourgeoisie in the dining hall.  
  
Royalty has pressing issues to deal with, just not while they're young. For example, the most distress I had ever encountered in Genovia was whether or not I'd find to work out at the gym, or what earrings to wear with my newest cocktail dress.  
  
I guess I never realized how easy I had it; calculus is quite worrisome!  
  
Father has allowed me to reclaim some of my duties as his heir; I shall attend a charity event next weekend; a masque for the Children's Hospital. Rene is also attending, so I get to see him!  
  
~October 25: Helen's~  
  
Stupid. Why do we need to integrate all these expressions?  
  
~Later~  
  
Franklin's gone now, so I can continue.  
  
Our sessions are almost painful at times. He can't help it if he understands it and I can't help it if I can't.  
  
Tomorrow I have another session with the Moscovitzs, which I really don't have time for, as I have a paper due in my History class due on Friday.  
  
The topic should be fairly easy though. An essay discussing World War I's effect on the country of my choice. Hmm...I wonder what I shall choose.  
  
Today I was sitting on a bench outside before my history class when a young man WINKED at me. I am embarrassed to admit that I did not find his attention unattractive.  
  
I admit it; I was flattered.  
  
Not to say that I'd want to date him, or anything; I just felt pretty. Pretty in a way that Grandmere, Father, Maddy, and everyone cannot make me feel.  
  
A random guy on campus thought I was worth winking at.  
  
I can't believe I'm celebrating this. My life must be really boring, to have sunk to this level. I must do well on this calculus exam and get out more.  
  
~October 31: Helen's~  
  
I have to prepare for the masque soon (the first time I've ever had to prepare for a formal event on my own!), but I HAD to write in here.  
  
I did well! I did so well that I can't even believe it! Take THAT, Michael Moscovitz! Take THAT, Professor Greene!  
  
I have to admit I am the happiest I've been since getting to New York right now. In a few days, I'll be "allowed" to see Maddy again. (It's ridiculous that a woman my age can be grounded, but when your Father's the Prince of a small country and has legions of men under his direction, I suppose anything is possible.)  
  
~Later: Hotel Bathroom~  
  
Rene and I made an odd couple, he as Elvis and I as Elizabeth I. Rene spent the first half hour of our reunion catching me up: Carl Philip had a bit too much fun at Becca Penningworth's birthday party, Wills had just gone out with an artsy type that his relatives were severely disapproving, and Rene himself had a little fun in the form of a petite redhead tennis groupie.  
  
We met with a few acquaintances at the benefit and did some appropriate socializing.  
  
I was dancing with Andrew Huntington IV when I felt his gaze on me.  
  
The whole Moscovitz family was at the entrance, all wearing costumes put together with least amount of effort; husband in black cloak and white mask, a la Phantom of the Opera, wife as witch in black dress and pointy hat. Lilly looked like she put some thought in it, wearing a slip dress with beard...Freudian slip, clever girl! Boris with them as gangster, in a suit and a darling violin case. And Michael...in his white dress shirt, black dress pants, red necktie tied around his waist as belt and eyepatch, I supposed he was a pirate.  
  
After Andrew and I finished our dance, I went to the Moscovitzs out of courtesy and bid them good evening.  
  
It was not entirely comfortable. I conversed fairly easily with husband wife and laughed a little with Lilly, but Michael's contemptuous assessment of my costume put me off a bit. I was triumphant in the end, however, as I announced to them all my current victory with my calculus exam.  
  
After passing the five minutes I needed to make my greeting polite I was ready to move away from them when Lilly suddenly extended an invitation to join her, Boris and Michael at some Horrible Rock Show? I don't quite understand.  
  
But here is my dilemma: should I go with them? I enjoy Lilly's company, and have earned a small break, so I think that it would be nice, but then again, I've never been to anything like a Horrible Rock Show. And why would they go if it's Horrible?  
  
But surely if Lilly likes it, it can't be all that bad...  
  
I really ought to stop writing. Here I am on my evening in society, hiding in a bathroom writing in my journal! Ridiculous!  
  
~Later: Helen's~  
  
It's Rocky Horror Picture Show, and it was fabulous!  
  
After I had exited the bathroom, I encountered Rene was "retiring for the evening" with Eliza Huntington on his arm. I shall refrain myself from further comment.  
  
After I sent them a cheerful goodnight, I headed towards the punch table. I should have been more careful, because I didn't realize that Michael Moscovitz was standing there.  
  
"Your date has abandoned you..."  
  
Date? RENE? I laughed. "Rene? Don't be ridiculous! He's my cousin!"  
  
Then there was silence. Finally, I had to gloat, "Aren't you going to congratulate me on my recent success with my calculus exam?"  
  
He only sent me a contemptuous look that said that he didn't really believe that I did well.  
  
"Michael, what are you doing just standing around? At least ask Amelia to dance," Dr. Moscovitz, wife, said, passing by with a colleague.  
  
Michael? Dance? I didn't believe that. He must have seen my assessing, questioning glance.  
  
Did I expect him to ask me to dance? Yes. Did I want to dance with him? Not particularly, but that was still no excuse for what he said next.  
  
"Nah, I'm just fine here."  
  
Then he sent me that infuriating smile that said that he knew he was being rude but that hell would freeze over before he actually considered a dance with me.  
  
It's amazing! I seem to discover new levels of patience and forbearance around him!  
  
This time I managed not to say anything, and smiled towards Patrick Carnegie, trying to entice him to come and ask me to dance. Michael saw me do this, but at this point, I didn't care.  
  
Patrick came towards us and I sent him a brilliant smile. "Patrick!"  
  
"Amelia..."  
  
We exchanged kisses. "You've been abominably rude thus far!" I began flirtatiously, putting forward my lightest, crispest voice. "I've met eyes with you at LEAST four times tonight and yet you have not come to bid me hello! I do believe in recompense you must dance with me..."  
  
Patrick laughed, "I will do my best to oblige. Shall we?"  
  
I had finished with Patrick and danced a few more with others by the next time I saw Michael again. He had the gall to imply that I did not behave properly! ME? PROPERLY! From the King of Manners, I suppose!  
  
"There's nothing wrong with smiling, and there is certainly nothing wrong with a woman asking a man to dance," I replied coldly.  
  
"Quite modern sentiments, Princess."  
  
"Not at all."  
  
I rolled my eyes. I quickly welcomed Lilly and Boris's entrance. Lilly asked me if I had decided whether or not I was go attend their Picture with them, and I was about to turn them down when I saw a LOOK in Michael's eye.  
  
The most annoying one because it implied he knew me so well and could predict my answer and was ready to hold it against me. I don't know what came over me. Perhaps it was a demand on behalf of my injured pride (he had refused to ask me to dance previously, remember) to insult his.  
  
So I agreed.  
  
We left then for the picture show. I volunteered my limousine for the purpose of driving us there. The whole trip I was inwardly berating myself, letting someone else goad me into my actions!  
  
But in the end, and I am quite surprised to admit this, I am glad that Michael Moscovitz thinks he knows me. Because if I hadn't been goaded into going, I would not have discovered the pleasure of the Rocky Horror Picture Show.  
  
It was messy to be sure, and quite rude at times, and people threw things at the screen...but they were ALLOWED to do that. I can't explain why I found the experience so enjoyable, only that I did. Even with Michael sitting next to me!  
  
Lilly, Boris, and I were an easy trio. I think it is because she is so different from my friends that I enjoy conversing with her so much. Lilly Moscovitz is an endearing companion and a charming young woman.  
  
Pity that her brother is not the same.  
  
All in all, we laughed our fill at the theater, and I offered the Moscovitz siblings and Boris a ride home. As Michael moved to get out of the car once we got to their Park Avenue apartment, Lilly asked me to have dinner with her and Boris tomorrow night, and to attend a chamber music concert at NYU.  
  
And so now I have plans with for tomorrow night as well! 


	4. Part 4

~November 4: Calculus~  
  
We will receive our exams back at the end of class today.  
  
I have to admit, having almost a week to contemplate, dread, and anticipate, I am completely befuddled as to how I actually did on the exam. I have had nightmares where I accidentally forgot to copy down a sin x in one of my expressions, and therefore I integrated it all wrong.  
  
I worked very hard though, so I would think that I DESERVE a good grade.  
  
I cannot dwell on this any longer, but it is nerve-wracking!  
  
~Later: Biology~  
  
83! 83! Class ave was 74!!! I, Amelia Renaldo, ingénue in the world of calculus, am ABOVE AVERAGE.  
  
And most importantly: I GET TO GLOAT.  
  
Furthermore, I get to see Maddy again! Surely, now that I have shown a marked improvement in my studies!  
  
I cannot wait to see the look on Michael Moscovitz's face when he finds out. So what if I have to talk with him; it's worth it!  
  
~November 8: Helen's~  
  
If one could channel the ego of Michael Moscovitz, I do believe one could power the entire country of Genovia into at least the next decade!  
  
It's never going to be enough with him!  
  
It was supposed to be a moment of triumph; I had waited for nearly a week to tell him! And he RUINED it!  
  
I had arrived at the Moscovitz's, and I confess I did look around for him, this time. I didn't make it obvious or course, for that would have been grievous indeed!  
  
Well I was lucky for he happened to be about in the hallway getting ready to leave when I had finished with the Moscovitzs'.  
  
I patiently waited for him to open the door for me (of course that never came to pass, I can be quite stupid at times, but I suppose I was unfortunately raised around GENTLEMEN) when I nonchalantly said "I got an 83 on that Calculus exam..."  
  
To which he replied "I'm sure the masses are teeming the streets of your homeland, all celebrating in their princess's genius with calculus."  
  
How is it that he has the ability to RUIN anything that I could remotely take joy in? It's utterly impossible to please him!  
  
Of course I don't care for pleasing him; no, 83 is perfectly respectable. And see if I ever choose to tell him of my wellbeing ever again!  
  
Ungrateful hooligan!  
  
~November 10: Helen's~  
  
Maddy and I are going to a benefit for the Metropolitan Museum of Art tonight! It shall be the first time we shall see her again since the calculus embargo of the past month.  
  
I told Franklin yesterday evening as we were working on my calculus that most likely I would not have time this weekend to meet with him.  
  
And he gave me a LOOK. The reprimanding kind. Why does everyone think that their opinion matters? I am doing perfectly fine in calculus now. I'll simply look over the material in my spare time this weekend. I just can't set aside a fixed amount of time to work with Frank! Even princesses deserve a break!  
  
Of course when I told Maddy I still had to study she got upset that I wouldn't be able to be with her all weekend!  
  
And so now I'm torn and tired. And my day hasn't even begun yet.  
  
~Later: Metropolitan Museum of Art bathroom~  
  
There has been an upheaval of everything that is right and good in this world.  
  
Myra Pennyworth brought MICHAEL MOSCOVITZ to the benefit tonight!  
  
Surely her she must be a client of the Mother or Father, for she is clearly deranged!  
  
Imagine my surprise this evening when over champagne and shrimp, who should come over to greet me but Myra? And then her DATE!  
  
I thought rich girls weren't to his liking and when Myra was deep in conversation with Maddy, I moved towards him and told him so.  
  
"Just Princesses named Amelia," he replied laughingly.  
  
INSUFFERABLE!  
  
I simmered in silence, afraid that attempting a reply him would only destroy what modicum of composure I had.  
  
I really have no idea what it is about Michael Moscovitz that DOES move me to passionate anger, but I only have to say that I do not like it! It is entirely too uncontrollable and I have already several times been the victim of this strange temper.  
  
I am not normally this short-tempered...indeed of my cousins, I must say that I have the most pleasant disposition and am not given to fits or tantrums...I never had as an infant, nor had I before I met Young Moscovitz.  
  
Anyhow, Myra Pennyworth has always been a brat; Michael, well, I don't have to write AGAIN what I think of HIM. They deserve each other and their wretched fate.  
  
~November 14: Helen's~  
  
Blah. That's how I feel today.  
  
To be sure, it's an indelicate condition and an even more dismal word. But there is just no other way of describing the completely and utter disappointment I feel.  
  
I got a 86 on my Calculus exam. It's still 13 points above the class average, but...  
  
...I knew that material better. I lost the 14 points on silly matters, misreading certain instructions, omitting terms between lines.  
  
Even worse, I arrived at the Moscovitzs' soon after for my session to find Myra Pennyworth sitting about in the kitchen, laughing in an unnatural high- pitched shriek. The laugh still has my head reeling.  
  
Evil shrieks and calculus. The combination is enough for anyone to go crazy.  
  
~November 16: Moscovitzs' Bathroom~  
  
Of all the situations to be in!  
  
Lilly invited me over tonight to sleep over.  
  
I've been invited to stay at guest rooms, and such. But I'm sleeping on the Moscovitz's floor, the way they do in movies.  
  
I think she did it because she doesn't like Myra Pennyworth.  
  
I was quite distraught when I realized this...not her dislike of Myra, that anyone dislikes her is not a source of distress: Myra is an ambitious malicious creature with the lack of taste to disguise it well. No the reason for my distress was that Lilly wished for my presence.  
  
What does she want me to do? Set down Myra? Turn the scheming brat away from Michael? Encourage them?  
  
I thought I had made my own opinion of Myra quite clear the other day when Lilly asked me casually what I thought of this "Michael dating Myra thing". I had told her I wanted nothing to do with it and each was of a mean disposition that most likely complemented the other and hence made the match perfect.  
  
But such things were below a princess's opinion anyhow, and I informed her not to ask of my advice again, as I had pressing matters on my mind.  
  
So instead she underhandedly invited me to dine in the company of two parties that I obviously loathe! Dining with Michael would have been bad enough; I have until now avoided joining the Moscovitzs' for dinner again for that very reason. But to deal with both!  
  
Lilly Moscovitz has the strongest sense of irony! I do believe she orchestrated the whole thing to watch me in distress!  
  
Well I won't stand for it any longer! I-  
  
~Later: Lilly's bedroom~  
  
Lilly had knocked quietly on the bathroom door and at first I was going to refuse, but I then realized she'd probably just repeat her request for entrance louder, bringing more attention to my embarrassing absence from the table.  
  
She'd told her parents she had to check on an appointment for tomorrow in her room and had to make a phone call before it got too late.  
  
I exercised a tremendous amount of restraint! In a cool voice, I asked her what she thought she would accomplish by bringing three people with little similarity and no predisposition to like each other together. I also informed her that the most observant hostess often did not commit such a grave mistake, and that I thought better of her.  
  
She completely shook off my reprimand! "Look, I needed you here! Can't you see they're just all wrong for each other?"  
  
As if that was going to incite sympathy? Since when did my duties include monitoring Young Moscovitz's love life? It wasn't as if he was going to even pay and deference to my sentiments or opinions, and I informed her of that.  
  
"Don't be silly, Amelia. I know that you don't get along. I invited you along for myself. I hate watching them. Just...ignore them for the rest of the evening, and we can have a good time. This is the first time she's dining with the family, and that's far too significant an event. I'm just...neutralizing things a bit. Besides, for some insane reason, I do believe she personally does not like you."  
  
Well there were many reasons for that, among them being that I am a princess, my money is not disappearing with the recession (and her spendthrift habits), and the most important being that Rene had not paid her a second glance, while he quite dotes on me.  
  
Women like her are SICK. Rene is my COUSIN.  
  
However, I do suppose jealousy can make even the most sweet-tempered, good- natured girl into the most irrational beast.  
  
I suspect that whatever is between her and Michael thrives on their mutual dislike of me. Especially on her side, as I recall her caustic remarks.  
  
Anyhow, given little choice, and having my own pride, of course I rejoined the dinner table, assuming an air of difference, and out of deference to Lilly, treating Myra's presence at the table not as a special isolated irritating event, but as a casual occurrence...as if Young Moscovitz had enough charm to bring a young woman to the table EVERY week.  
  
I confess, it was quite fun.  
  
Humility prevents me from revealing my doings, but vanity demands I at least share one interaction:  
  
Myra: I see that you've been wallowing in the books a lot lately, Amelia. It's too bad you aren't blessed with the intelligence to do without them.  
  
Me: I consider it an honor that I am blessed with the intelligence to know what to do WITH them.  
  
I felt SO GOOD saying that. It was one of the more insulting exchanges, and I bared claws that time; she bared hers first.  
  
By the end of the eve Myra was seething in thinly veiled frustration, the Moscovitz spouses were highly amused, Lilly was looking at me with a kind of admiration I had never conceived before in my life, and Michael? He was indifferent.  
  
But that didn't say much, because he's always indifferent.  
  
I confess it was one of my more stunning performances. I've dealt with many an uncooperative dinner guest before, but I've never had such a lively and engaged audience.  
  
I do believe that though she has not mentioned it, Lilly knows that I do not like her brother. However, with her sick sense of irony, she does love to amuse herself by placing us in each other's paths. She is testing my limit, but I cannot do a thing about it. It would be rude of me to tell her that I dislike a member of her family. But what she is doing is absolutely cruel.  
  
~Later: Table in the Moscovitz Kitchen~  
  
Lilly decided at that moment that we ought to sneak into the kitchen and have a post-midnight snack of ice cream.  
  
Eating any sort of food at such a late hour, with no exercise to follow is a deathwish to discipline of any who wish to stay in shape. I told Lilly so only to be LAUGHED at.  
  
"Oh, Amelia, you're too funny! One night isn't going to kill you and you're too thin anyway!"  
  
I might have still succeeded on the ice cream embargo had (1) Lilly not had Rocky Road ice cream and (2) Michael not had heard the remark and teased me for my "royal rigidity" (I didn't hear well, so it might have been frigidity, but I don't believe the uncouth lacks the poetry to synthesize an alliteration).  
  
I had been lustfully and longingly watching Lilly scoop ice cream into her bowl when Shirtless Michael came out.  
  
I will remark here that upon er....closer...examination, he does have a passably...pretty body. Pennyworth had left hours ago and I do admit I took some amount of perverse pleasure in that SHE was not here to witness his merits.  
  
But oh! How embarrassing! He caught my look, smiled at me slowly in a cocky Han Solo smile (I'd seen Star Wars the other day with Lilly and Harrison Ford was still on my mind...) and asked me the results of my assessment.  
  
I was saved from the mortifying degrading experience by Lilly who interrupted to ask once more if I really intended to hold fast to my no ice cream resolution. To which Michael made his remark, and I got ice cream just so that we could change the topic.  
  
He joined us. He grabbed a bowl himself and seated himself across the table from me, eating his ice cream, his eyes crinkled and laughing in assessment of my own situation. Not my looks to be sure. I'm sure I appeared simply boring to him in my virginal white dressing robe over my virginal white dressing gown, hair pulled back in tight braid.  
  
No I'm sure he still had the shirt (or lack thereof) episode in his head.  
  
Lilly directed most of our reluctant conversation and soon after, Michael rinsed his bowl out and left us in peace.  
  
Lilly soon left after saying she was sleepy.  
  
I only assumed she wanted to sleep in darkness (I've never had to worry about roommates before; I had lived in a single during boarding school, and that was the only chance I'd ever had at living with other people) and so I decided to write out the remaining energy I had out here in the kitchen.  
  
This is the loneliest time of the day...right before I go to bed. Out of habit, the strange sense of isolation comes over me.  
  
I suppose it must come over everyone who does not have a warm partner to curl up with in bed.  
  
It's at these moments when I wonder about...well...romance.  
  
How morbid! This has never bothered me before, and I can only hide behind the lateness of the hour and visions of...shirtless men!  
  
Disgusting! I'm going to bed now!  
  
~November 20: Helen's~  
  
Calculus is slow. Thanksgiving holiday is later this week.  
  
I was informed of the holiday, its origins and customs by Helen and Franklin the other night as we dined.  
  
We are spending the holiday at Helen's. I was invited to partake of the Moscovitz festivities, but I have politely declined, hiding behind the excuse that it is a family holiday and I wished to remain with Helen. The Drs. Moscovitz thought the attitude an improvement over my previous sentiments and so decided to let my declination stand.  
  
I simply don't want to go to the Moscovitzs' again. I had asked Lilly if Myra was invited for dinner as well in passing the other day, and when she confirmed, well...the decision was easily made. Helen is Helen, but she's considerate and compassionate and a whole lot better than Myra.  
  
Though I suspect the cooking might be better at the Moscovitzs'.  
  
I don't know though; Franklin has some surprisingly satisfying recipes.  
  
~November 23: Helen's~  
  
I don't think I could move again in the next century.  
  
How do Americans do this? They must fast for a month before they can manage to consume so large a meal. Never in my history of ten, twelve, twenty-course meals have I ever felt so disgustingly full.  
  
Guilt demands that as soon as I can move, I should go out and run for at least twenty miles! I do not think I can fit in any of my clothes ever again.  
  
Franklin and Helen retired for naps and I am feeling a bit sleepy myself. Lilly called a little bit ago; we exchanged stories from our battles with turkey and laughed until out stomachs hurt (that didn't take much).  
  
Boris was also dining with the Moscovitzs' and because he's been on tour in Eastern Europe these past few weeks I was elated to talk with him for a bit about his impressions. He made a stop over at Genovia, visited with Maddy, and made a stop to pick up some chocolates over in Belgium that I simply adore. Boris is such a sweetheart.  
  
After speaking with Boris a bit, I called Maddy. She was in a perfumed haze of daydreaminess, most likely brought on by the handsome football (excuse me, SOCCOR) player she was dating. His name is Jens, and he's German. After attempting to explain this strange annual tradition of eating until one is comatose, I bid her an exhausted and somewhat exasperated adieu.  
  
I really don't understand the strain that is starting to come between Maddy and myself; we'd grown up together, and it's only natural that we remain good friends. But lately...  
  
It's as if she doesn't realize that I've moved away; I don't think she believes that this experience in America bears any significance to my future or my development of character and mind.  
  
I didn't think it would either, but...well it has, and I long for her to understand this. I long for her to be here as well, experiencing it as well.  
  
~November 28: Calculus~  
  
Finals are around the corner!  
  
It is so incredible to me that my first term as a student has almost finished. I can scarcely believe it, for I feel that I am still starting out. I still have so many problems understanding things and people around me. It all adds up to this mass confusion that still has not managed to sort itself out.  
  
A semester is over. 1/8 of my sentence in New York is almost up. A sizable portion.  
  
However, I am no closer to finding whatever it is that I keep on seeking.  
  
Why am I in New York? What did Father want me to find here? What was so special about an American education? As far as I can see, I would have gathered the same conclusions in Genovia as I have here and would not have had to suffer the company of ruffians and uncouths!  
  
No matter. It is almost 1/8 finished and with Lilly's company I'm sure the other 7/8 will not be so unbearable. Lilly is delightful.  
  
I would not say that she makes my entire New York experience worthwhile, however: women like Lilly Moscovitz should not be in New York in the first place. It's amazing she turned out so well bred. There are elements of the ridiculous in her, I admit, but what she lacks in taste and sophistication she certainly makes up in quickness of mind and acerbic wit.  
  
~November 29: Helen's~  
  
Good news: I shall spend my winter holiday in FRANCE with GRANDMERE! Two weeks with Grandmere! There will be a few things to attend to in Genovia, including the Annual Winter Ball, of course, but aside from those duties I shall be free to gallop about the French countryside with my dearest grandmother. She has already decided to bring me to Paris for New Year's! I shall not be able to enjoy Paris as long as I'd like; classes begin again on the second of January, but no matter! One cannot think of such sad things as partings when the reunion has yet to occur!  
  
Oh France! The light! The language! The culture! My heart overflows with happiness. I anticipate happy dreams of perfect long leisurely evenings at the ballet and enjoyable social teas in the perfect winter afternoon, with Genovia's finest biscuits!  
  
~November 30: Moscovitzs' Bathroom~  
  
Michael is breaking up with Myra in the hallway RIGHT NOW!  
  
It is the most awkward situation. I had come into here from Lilly's room had not even set about locking the door yet when I heard Myra storming into the hallway.  
  
I did not mean to stay, but neither did I want to interrupt her glorious tirade. Then I heard her make some amazing incredible accusations about his behavior and sentiments with regards to ME, and that made me want to stay here even more. Not because I want to hear more about how he's secretly using her to make me jealous (she is truly deranged!), but because it would be horrific if I exited the bathroom in the middle of her declaration of his feelings for me.  
  
And so I'm sitting in the bathroom, trying not to listen to their conversation. Michael's voice, for the most part, is tensed so that it is only urgently hush. Myra, on the other hand, sounds as if she did not care if the citizens of Borneo were awaken by her deafening cries.  
  
I don't blame her, though; she never SHOULD have trusted the uncouth in the first place, but that HE should ever think of breaking off their relationship, UNTHINKABLE! The advantage was all on his side!  
  
She is now switching tactics and I admit it is quite pathetic!  
  
Begging, pleading, bargaining with Moscovitz! Quite undignified! I cannot hear his response but I'm sure it is not favorable, as Myra does not show any sign of abatement of tears, bribes, whatnot.  
  
Surely Myra is not truly attached to him. I do not understand why she has been denigrated thus. She is a PENNYWORTH! While Pennyworths are certainly not Renaldos, they are still worth much more than Moscovitzs!  
  
And yet, I don't understand what other motivation would drive her to such loud lengths!  
  
This is quite embarrassing and I'd prefer not to hear it...  
  
...but she is just too loud!  
  
Lilly's out there right now. "Amelia?"  
  
Oh dear.  
  
~Later: Lilly's Bedroom~  
  
How embarrassing! I had tried to remain silent but Michael had already given me away. "She's in the bathroom, listening in on our conversation."  
  
So I did the only thing I could do. I turned on the sink, stepped out and pretended I had not heard a word that was uttered.  
  
Lilly is laughing at me. "Come on Amelia; Myra was not making it a secret what was going on! You don't have to pretend!"  
  
I explained to her the rules that society should and most of the time does follow; topics of embarrassment, such as attachments and...unattachments were not conversation pieces.  
  
"You're dying to say stuff though! I know it!" she's goading me.  
  
I refuse to utter any sentiments for or against the attachment, and I told her so. I thought it was quite diplomatic of me for saying so and holding to my word, despite my REALLY wanting to tell her that I never thought it was going to work and that Pennyworth was being a real twit about it. Lilly simply replied that I was BORING.  
  
Boring?  
  
Boring by Lilly Moscovitz's standards is not a difficult title to hold; Lilly has mean standards for friends, and she refuses to associate herself with people who are meek, who pretend they are indifferent. People who know how to hold their tongue when the situation demands tact.  
  
If that is so, then I suppose I am boring! But better to be boring than to be uncivilized! 


	5. Part 5

~December 2: Helen's~  
  
December already.  
  
In Genovia, Christmas decorations would be going up around the palace...preparations for the Winter Ball would be underway. I'd be out with Grandmere, selecting the gown I'd be wearing to this year's festivities.  
  
Here, the skies are perpetually gray, but not as disgustingly gray as the has-been snow on the streets and sidewalks that dirties the bottoms of people's boots and trousers.  
  
There still is excitement in the air, though, and there are masses of people on the streets, laden with shiny bags proclaiming their store of origin: Macy's, Saks Fifth Avenue, Brooks Brothers, Barnes & Noble.  
  
I am putting together my own Christmas list right now and I admit it is quite a confusing process. Thus far I include: Father, Grandmere, Lars, Maddy, Fran, Henrietta, Boris, Helen, Franklin, Lilly, and the Drs. Moscovitz.  
  
And now I have a dilemma: I am deliberately ignoring one person in the family Moscovitz and that is inexcusably rude. But I have no wish to purchase him anything because he has done nothing to get into my good graces or merit his existence on my list.  
  
I can't ignore the older Moscovitzs, though, because they've been if not at all helpful, at least quite kind and patient, and some times at least amusing. I don't wish to ignore Lilly for she is a pleasure to be with.  
  
So that means that only He is left. And as much as I don't want to pretend he is as close a friend as Fran or Henrietta, who've been with me since my first year at boarding school, I cannot just show up at the Moscovitz residence and hand out presents to everyone BUT him! It would be mortifying once they noticed!  
  
~December 5: Calculus~  
  
Present problem still not solved. I thought I might be able to pull of a small useless present, but I've known Lilly for a less amount of time than I've known Michael, so it doesn't quite fit. Also, he still does pass on messages to and fro from his parents and me. So he doesn't really deserve a lesser gift than Lilly.  
  
What would I get him anyhow? What do I know about him?  
  
What I know about Michael Moscovitz:  
  
1) He's rude.  
  
2) He's a senior.  
  
3) He majors in computer science, so probably he likes computers.  
  
So the best I can do right now is a mouse pad.  
  
~December 6: Helen's~  
  
Went shopping today. Managed to find adorable bracelet for Maddy and perfume for Fran. Delightful scarf for Henrietta. Special rosin for Boris (I get him a cake of it every year for his bow).  
  
But I have no idea what to get Helen.  
  
This has got to be the most stressful holiday yet! I have never had difficulties picking out presents before; I annually picked out gifts for all of Father's secretaries and friends! It takes a day or so, but NEVER have I come home without success. (This year that joyful shopping trip has been postponed until after I have taken my finals and have returned to Genovia.)  
  
I'm thinking of something quite useless for the Drs. Moscovitz, like matching paperweights. I could try making them seem special by getting them engraved in Genovian crystal. Many Americans love useless breakable things like that.  
  
Lilly's present remains a nice puzzle to ponder, and Michael's?  
  
Don't get me started on that one.  
  
For I HAVE decided to get him a present. I don't know what yet. But I'm hoping I deliberately choose something I know he'll hate, like a fruit basket or sweater. He might eat the fruit basket, but he'd NEVER wear the sweater. He never wears sweaters. Better to carefully choose something, but even better to make it seem like I don't care whether or not he likes it or finds it useful.  
  
Ok, so the latter part is a lie. I want him to find it completely useless.  
  
Am I evil? I think I am.  
  
~December 8: Saks Fifth Avenue bathroom~  
  
I was at the perfume counter considering changing my fragrance when I saw MICHAEL MOSCOVITZ one counter away!  
  
He's getting me perfume? Surely, it must be for me.  
  
Neither of the Moscovitz women wears perfume and he has no girlfriend.  
  
So what is he doing purchasing perfume?  
  
And if he's purchasing me perfume then I must spend more than the $20 I had intended on spending on his gift. And I must be more considerate.  
  
Maybe a NICE sweater.  
  
How FRUSTRATING!  
  
~December 12: Helen's~  
  
Finals start next Monday but I'm not particularly worried. This semester, while starting off shakily has taken quite a strange turn for the better. I have been studying a bit and I shall have to study intensely this weekend, but it should be a rather painless process.  
  
I celebrate Christmas with the Moscovitzs at their party on the Friday after finals, and I celebrate with Helen and Franklin Saturday, before I leave on Sunday for Genovia.  
  
I have not found my gift for Lilly. For Helen, well, not given much time and still not knowing her very well, I decided on an easel, for the one she owns does not seem all that stable anymore.  
  
For Franklin, well, I got him a tie. He doesn't wear them all that often, but, well, this one's adorable. It has cute little integration expressions on it, and I'm sure he'll like it, if only for that reason.  
  
I bought a rather neutral-looking mug for Michael (programmers must love hot caffeinated drinks), and because I felt guilty over the perfume, I also purchased him...yes, a sweater.  
  
Useless, but the best I could do. It's a REALLY nice sweater. Mark Shale.  
  
And now, Lilly. I never thought she'd be the last one left on the list. I was almost positive it'd be Michael.  
  
But I DON'T know what to get her. If she had been anything like Fran or Maddy, it would have been simple, but she's not.  
  
She's random and interesting and appreciates odd things.  
  
~December 17: Helen's~  
  
Finals are going well, as expected. I finish with Calculus and Biology tomorrow!  
  
And because I took my English final today and have already turned in my final paper for History, I am free as of tomorrow, even though finals still go on another three days after!  
  
But that gives me three days to find the most wonderful gift imaginable for Lilly.  
  
~December 20: Moscovitz bathroom~  
  
I am an idiot!  
  
I am beyond embarrassed.  
  
Because the perfume wasn't for me. It was for Lilly's friend Shameeka, who is tall, beautiful, intelligent, witty and quite charming. I saw the same beautifully wrapped package from Saks under the tree, with her name, and a "From Guess Who?" underneath.  
  
I didn't do anything embarrassing, of course. I didn't waltz in demanding my present, but now there's a present under the tree for him from me, and when he finds out, I wonder if he's going to feel guilty or embarrassed. I know I'll at least feel the latter.  
  
If I could sneak in, and take it back...then...but that would look horrible if I got caught.  
  
I don't want to be around when he opens his present, looks up and asks me what on the face of God's good Earth possessed me to get him such an expensive present.  
  
The only way I can get out of this is by leaving NOW.  
  
I'll make my excuses, and at least I won't have to see his reaction.  
  
~Later: Helen's~  
  
Lilly just called, but I didn't have the spirit to talk to her, and so told Helen to inform her that I was indisposed.  
  
I'm sure he's opened the present.  
  
If I'm lucky, maybe they're the type of family that waits until Christmas morning before opening presents...if that's so, then most likely he won't notice my present in the heaps of others. Or at least I'll be far away enough not to feel the embarrassment.  
  
He might just take it as a joke, and KNOW that the sweater is useless...as if I intended all along to get him a useless present...never mind how expensive it was.  
  
I wonder how Shameeka is so beautiful and charming.  
  
Would Lilly actually encourage her brother's becoming attached to one of her friends?  
  
~December 21: Helen's~  
  
Lilly came over today, wearing the trenchcoat I got her for Christmas, full of smiles. "Amelia, you didn't have to!"  
  
I smiled in the satisfaction that she looked absolutely smashing in it. I informed her that every journalist ought to have one.  
  
"I adore it. I completely adore it. But never mind the coat. Are you feeling better?" she asked while I hung her coat up.  
  
Ah yes, the headache I pleaded that allowed my early escape.  
  
"Much better. I must have been more tired than I thought from term...I haven't gotten enough sleep, putting together lists of things I must do when I get back to Genovia."  
  
But in the back of my mind, I KNEW. If Lilly had opened her present, there was no chance that I'd have the buffer of the Atlantic Ocean before Michael Moscovitz realized I'd bought him a beautiful expensive sweater for Christmas.  
  
I was wondering if Lilly knew what I had gotten her brother, and trying to find a way to broach the delicate subject when Lilly started on it for me. "It was too fabulous, what you got for Michael!"  
  
I did not feign surprise.  
  
"He absolutely HATES it!" Lilly laughed. "I honestly had no idea that you even thought of getting a present...but I couldn't have done better myself! Amelia, you've got the most wicked sense of humor ever!"  
  
I suppose that I should have been comforted by the fact that no one was taking my over-priced sweater seriously.  
  
I suppose I should have been relieved by the fact that Michael did not take any pleasure in my gift.  
  
And we were back in the same blessed situation we started from, barely standing each other.  
  
Or perhaps did I score a win?  
  
Confused with the rules, not knowing what my sentiments towards his response to my Christmas present were, I decided to drop the matter entirely from my mind and so proposed that I put on the kettle for a bit of tea.  
  
Lilly enthusiastically agreed.  
  
Sitting down, she recounted the "fun" that I had missed because of my early departure yesterday night. Shameeka, apparently, had made a complete fool of herself.  
  
Mortified to imagine the elegant beautiful Shameeka doing anything inelegant (and perhaps privately cattily pleased that she had done so, I'm such slime) I tried to maintain some semblance of indifference as I inquired as to why.  
  
Apparently, there was a big plot last night, courtesy of Lilly and her friend Tina Hakim Baba. More appropriate names would be Interference and Romance, respectively.  
  
Shameeka, high school cheerleader, class secretary, polished smooth sophisticate who attends Wellesley, is head over heels in love with Kenny, the little computer geek I met last night, who goes to MIT.  
  
Extraordinary! She's at least two inches taller than him in her flats!  
  
She's been in love with him since high school and has ever since been carrying a torch for him.  
  
Kenny, however, is as dense as a brick. He was furthermore unacquainted with courtly behaviors, and hence would have been at a loss had he even decided to pursue Shameeka in the first place.  
  
The situation, therefore, fell to Lilly and Tina's creative minds, and with careful planning they were able to lead Kenny to believe that MICHAEL was in love with Shameeka!  
  
The whole plot reeks of silly teen fiction!  
  
Naturally, it didn't work. Kenny didn't seem to notice or care, despite the fact that in Boston, Shameeka visited with him EVERY WEEK.  
  
Seeing as Kenny wasn't going to be cornered into admitting his feelings (and at that point, it seemed he had no feelings to speak of), the girls heartlessly turned on Shameeka and forced her to reveal hers.  
  
This all culminated in the perfume incident. Receiving entirely too many attentions from Michael and an entirely too expensive bottle of perfume from Michael (courtesy, in reality, of Tina's allowance), Shameeka watched Tina shamelessly flirt with Kenny. With her growing impatience and jealousy, she waited and waited for a chance to calm down. But she cracked instead.  
  
I am only glad I was not there to witness such vulgarities.  
  
Anyhow, Shameeka yelled at Kenny, and now they're dating.  
  
It stunned me that the girls managed to get Michael in on such a plot as he did not seem the type and I told her so. She simply laughed and said that she was blackmailing him with crucial information.  
  
I gasped. I admit it. It was such a crass thing to do! I'd NEVER consider doing anything so low!  
  
Lilly laughed again and told me that I was a riot. She reached into her bag and withdrew two presents that I had apparently not claimed last night before I left and said she had to go.  
  
I walked her out and then I came back to the dining room. Two presents. One from the Drs. Moscovitz, and one from Lilly. Surely.  
  
Because Michael Moscovitz would never have thought of getting me a present. I got him one just so that he could feel bad for not getting me one.  
  
I opened the one labeled from Lilly first. I uncovered a set of videotapes, and a book covered all over with...pictures of brains.  
  
Apparently, the tapes were of her last season of "Lilly Tells it Like It Is", which she always has claimed was her best one. She's talked of her show often, and I thought it was a pity that she was no longer recording simply because she was in college, but she said that it was for the best: she had her own journalism projects for classes that were if not as enjoyable, at least just as time-consuming. She always said she'd show me her work and I am glad to see that she finally got around to giving me a copy.  
  
As for the book with the brains on it. Well, it's blank, so I only assume that it's a journal for me to pen my thoughts in.  
  
It looks almost disgusting. I'm not sure what Maddy would say if she saw me toting it around, rather than this rather plain-looking black book.  
  
And of course, that's why Lilly got it for me. To make me not "boring".  
  
Because I'm sure in her world that if one walked about with a book with brains pasted on the cover, he would be considered debonair and artsy, a real intellectual.  
  
In my world, well...  
  
...at least it's interesting.  
  
But what else does one expect when one befriends a character like Lilly Moscovitz?  
  
I suppose it's just as well, as I seem to be running out of paper in this book.  
  
The Drs. Moscovitzs gave me a CD with relaxing ocean sounds to help me fall asleep; I had said I had problems staying asleep at night.  
  
~Later: Helen's~  
  
There must be a "blank book" sign above my head.  
  
Helen has also chosen to give me a blank book for Christmas, decorated in her own abstract way with vivid yellows, reds and purples.  
  
It is quite telling of what these Americans know of me. Both Helen and Lilly are of that intimate cozy disposition that feels compelled to give PERSONAL presents, presents to people that MEAN something.  
  
And of course, what DOES one get for a princess?  
  
A personally decorated blank book. After all, is she not constantly writing in hers? Is she not almost finished with it?  
  
I am not insulted, but rather...disappointed.  
  
Is that ALL they know of me?  
  
They are lovely books, though. And they both probably put in a lot more effort into their presents than I put in mine to them.  
  
I am ashamed.  
  
And relieved that I shall leave this intimate, cozy, personal country tomorrow. Something a little more elegant, distant, and...in general, relaxing.  
  
~December 23: MY Bedroom in Genovia~  
  
It has been a fast few days, and I have scarcely had time to write! Between visits with dignitaries, Christmas shopping on my Father's behalf, and attending various functions and receiving fruit baskets, chocolate sleighs, and other symbols of deference and respect, I have been much to busy to do anything but...be a princess!  
  
And I love it!  
  
How I've missed these duties. Every time I get in the car, I lovingly caress the soft white leather interior, knowing that the important person that the beautiful burgundy Rolls Royce is conveying is ME.  
  
Status.  
  
I am treated like a princess, like a woman, like a lady. And it is so wonderful!  
  
Tonight is the Annual Winter Ball. Rene gets in this afternoon from London and so he shall be my escort. Tomorrow, as a royal family, we shall all go to Grandmere's palace in France, where we shall engage in our Christmas celebrations.  
  
They finished decorating the palace just an hour ago. It is quite marvelous, and I do hope that the only thing that shall outshine that will be my own smiles as I greet all and sundry as the Princess of Genovia, Chatelaine of her father's palace.  
  
~Later: Bedroom~  
  
Mm! What an evening!  
  
Everyone was absolutely charming tonight! The music, the wine, the cheeses, the company, everything was absolutely perfect! Father said so when he stopped by to wish me a good night.  
  
Fran and Henrietta were there, and it was nice to be with them again. It's been a while since I've seen them: Fran is at Oxford and Henrietta at the Universitie of Genovia.  
  
Fran has turned into the darlingest nerd! She had declined to come to London and see me when I was visiting before, and I should have known then. Singing praises of PHYSICS, her eyes glimmered as she introduced her BOYFRIEND, a shy, be-spectacled but rather adorable older version of Harry Potter named Linus. He was also an avid student of the abominable science!  
  
However, Fran has never looked so happy and after extracting a promise to spend some time with me later this week when we were both in Paris, I proceeded to go on enjoying my evening and completely forget Fran and her nerd.  
  
They are on my mind now, though. Surely, Fran does realize that Linus lacks many qualities necessary in a suitable escort. She's the daughter of a Genovian lord! Anyone could see that he was shy, awkward and out of place. Why, even her parents seem to eye him warily!  
  
But Fran was always set on having her way. Obstinate headstrong girl!  
  
Henrietta expressed her own reservations over the match later to me, as we enjoyed one last glass of port together in the Red Room privately. (Fran was invited but decided against it, as she would have had to leave Linus and he was obviously uncomfortable without her.)  
  
Henrietta, for her own part, is quite bored and desolate without me. Poor darling. Apparently her classes are only mildly interesting and so she spends many days simply visiting with friends and riding. She has become quite accomplished, and is having quite some fun tumbling in the hay with a stable boy at the school. I hid my disgust at her nonchalant confession...alas, I suppose if I were anything lesser than a princess, I might be of more frisky character myself, and might too consider liaisons with inappropriate partners. TUMBLING IN THE HAY?  
  
It's not as if American students embrace much higher principles, but...I just don't communicate with them.  
  
Am I a prude? Is it normal to form these casual attachments? Give into youthful impulses and passions?  
  
I look at my parents, and though I realize that my own life is a result of those foolish sentiments, I myself cannot embrace such wanton insidious thoughts.  
  
Maybe I am a prude. But I must be. Think of all the scandal I'd create if I played fast and loose about New York! The tabloids and magazines would then be following my romantic misadventures, rather than William's. No, let England be in the harsh spotlight. Genovia shall remain in secure and approved shadows.  
  
One day, I will make a wonderful match, and the magazines will be permitted to showcase my wedding trousseau and divulge details of my elaborate reception. My groom will be of impeccable descent, with a reputation as tame as mine.  
  
And then we shall live peacefully and elegantly ever after.  
  
Is it not a perfect picture of what a royal marriage should be?  
  
~December 25: Chateau Miragnac, Duchess Bedroom~  
  
Merry Christmas, dearest Confidant!  
  
It is indeed a beautiful Christmas morning. Last night, I looked out my window and watched the snow falling across the countryside and let out the most comfortable sigh EVER.  
  
It is just after dawn now and soon I am sure the little dukelings and countessettes of the palace will rouse all and sundry for Christmas festivities. It is the one indignity Grandmere allows for in her palace and it is only because it Christmas. (I never participated in it, of course, because exception or no, on Christmas, I am still a princess.)  
  
~Later: South Drawing Room~  
  
Christmas festivities are underway and there is a sleighful of children outside, eager for a ride around Grandmere's estate. Rene and I are charged with our own tasks. Within the hour we shall be embarking on our own sleighride into the village and bring with us Christmas geese, foods, and chocolates.  
  
It is an antiquated tradition started centuries ago by the duke who used to live in the Chateau but Grandmere adheres to every tradition to the letter.  
  
Afterwards we shall return for our own elaborate Christmas dinner and finish the evening with dancing.  
  
I am engaged to dance with four thirteen-year-old distant cousins, one seventy-year-old third cousin once removed, and of course Rene and my Father.  
  
~December 26: The Library~  
  
It is a rather slow day; many of our relatives have left this morning, including Father, who has promised to meet us again in Paris for New Year's Eve. Rene has swept off as well, with prospects of a rather exciting ski holiday in the Alps with Greta, the Swiss diplomat's eighteen-year-old daughter who is a model and quite a skier herself. And so, it is just Grandmere and me. Grandmere is attending to some matters with the housekeeper and her secretary (making arrangements for Paris), and so I am left on my own.  
  
I enjoy my solitude. I am tired. I have forgotten how exhausting being perpetually pleasant is!  
  
I do believe I shall curl up on that divine couch in the corner and shut my eyes for a moment...  
  
~Later: The Library~  
  
Grandmere has given me a long scolding about the indelicacy of falling asleep in public rooms. I was tempted to inform her that a room in a house occupied by two family members is hardly public but I do not believe she would have heard me.  
  
I would think she'd respect me a bit more than that! I know my duties and I am very aware of what will make me a fool and what won't. It is not as if I am still fourteen and about to come out into society; I have managed my own palace for quite some time now!  
  
I didn't say any of this, however, as I knew I only would have brought on another lecture on addressing my elders.  
  
I cannot help but remember that Helen never tells me where I should sit or how I should speak.  
  
~December 27: South Drawing Room~  
  
We drove through the village today, and I saw two young ladies, about fifteen years of age, cheerily walking out of a bookstore, eyes glittering in excitement, heads leaned towards each other in eager, lively conversation.  
  
Where have my companions gone? Maddy is on holiday with her family in Switzerland, Fran is discussing electrons and such nonsense with her Harry Potter, and Henrietta is tumbling in the hay with the stableboy.  
  
I cannot help but be reminded that only a week ago Lilly and I went around to various McDonald's restaurants around New York in my limo and asked for Frosties...apparently they're some sort of dairy dessert that is served only by Wendy's.  
  
I had not understood at the time how such a stupid-sounding task would seem fun, but upon recollection, Lilly really is an odd fun person to pass free time with.  
  
I wonder what she would think of now. Maybe she'd go into these bookstores and ask for romance novels in Swahili.  
  
At the very least, I would have had some rocky road ice cream by now.  
  
But rocky road ice cream does not frequent the beautiful French restaurants Grandmere takes me to, nor does it lurk in the freezers of our chateau. I asked about it yesterday, but Yvette did not understand, claiming that it was most likely an American delicacy, for she had never made such a dessert.  
  
Handmade ice cream is all very well and delicious, and the way Yvette makes it is marvelous...but rocky road ice cream is rocky road ice cream.  
  
~December 29: Paris, Grandmere's townhouse~  
  
We have arrived!  
  
Today I snuck out for a bit and found an open ice cream shop, where I was able to obtain my rocky road ice cream. I was unable to keep it from Lars, however, and therefore bought his silence with a cone of his own.  
  
If Grandmere ever found out I'd been in a regular ice cream parlor and bought my own ice cream, she'd give me a talking to.  
  
If she had known of all the things I had to do for myself in the States, I'm sure she would have forbid my going there for college. In fact, had I known, I might have informed her of it. However, I didn't, and I still go there.  
  
And Father's mind won't change.  
  
But I don't mind so much going back to the States. I can buy my rocky road ice cream from the grocer in peace, and eat it in the privacy of my own kitchen. I can scoop out as much as I please, and have Lilly next to me, telling me that one more scoop is not going to kill me.  
  
Rene is escorting us to the ballet tonight. Afterwards, we shall enjoy cocktails at the Genovian Embassy with the Genovian Ambassador to France and his wife.  
  
I have bought a new dress for the occasion, but I do wonder at why. I do not attend half so many functions as I used to. If anything, I could use a few more pairs of trousers and skirts for class; infrequent dry cleaning has rendered my business casual wardrobe a bit shabby. I had them all cleaned this holiday season, but I suppose I shall have to go out on my own tomorrow, and make purchases.  
  
~December 31: Grandmere's Townhouse, Paris~  
  
Happy New Year's Eve!  
  
Tonight we shall go to the Duville's home for ball.  
  
Grandmere has made me purchase another gown for the occasion. She was quite mortified this morning when I admitted that I no longer fit my old gowns.  
  
Dear confidant, it's because I'm TALLER, not FATTER!  
  
Perhaps my figure has filled out a bit, but I thought the touches more womanly, and certainly not entirely unflattering.  
  
Grandmere has withheld her opinion on the changes, but has allowed for my gown tonight to be of a sleeker cut, one that most definitely highlights my more mature silhouette.  
  
Or it could be a sick form of punishment, to accent the growing dumpiness brought on by my dangerous friends, Ben & Jerry. To warn me not to get any fuller. 


	6. Part 6

~January 1: Air France plane: En route to New York~  
  
I cannot say that I am unhappy right now. Though I am returning to the States, prospects of rocky road ice cream, Lilly Moscovitz's company, and even Helen's relaxed attitude brighten my future.  
  
Though classes do not.  
  
I have elected to take General Chemistry, Macroeconomics, 20th Century European History, and British Classics.  
  
There is no direction in my selection and I think I prefer it that way. I was tempted to take a computer programming class as well (a Genovian royal adept in the ways of C++? That would be quite a coup!) but decided against it when confronted with becoming a female version of Young Moscovitz.  
  
But who knows. Maybe I'll step in and take a look.  
  
I sincerely hope I enjoy economics. I intend to major in it, though my experience in the subject is scant at best...one semester in high school. The experience was a rather bland neutral one and so I have no feelings for or against it thus far. I only think it'd be a useful tool to have under my belt, my being the next ruler of a country and all.  
  
The woman in the seat beside me is sound asleep. Were I to be such a fortunate creature! I myself cannot sleep on planes; I get nervous and claustrophobic. Furthermore, first class or not, the seats are never comfortable enough to relax in.  
  
Lars is across the aisle from me, sipping slowly at his tonic water. He is uncomfortable on planes as well and I suspect he'd do better with a bit of gin in his drink. But he cannot drink on the job.  
  
Poor Lars.  
  
It is an odd note to end this journal on, but I shall.  
  
Adieu.  
  
~January 2: Limo en route to Moscovitz residence~  
  
DIARY OF THE PRINCESS AMELIA RENALDO OF GENOVIA, VOLUME II.  
  
I debated for a time over which book would be my second volume; Lilly's brain-spangled one, or this one, and decided that I was not entirely ready for the massive questioning I'd receive over the brain one yet. Perhaps in the near future (before I finish this journal and start on that one) I will gain a spine and with my spine, I will be able to coldly look down my imperious nose at any who dare criticize my journal.  
  
I do have a most elegant nose.  
  
Today classes recommenced. It did not go so badly; I only had economics and literature.  
  
I am on my way to my first session of the year with the Drs. Moscovitz. They have decided to change the appointment to dinner, so that I may be able to regale my adventures in Genovia casually and at leisure.  
  
The younger Moscovitzs, I assume, will also be present.  
  
I wasn't going to tell the Drs. Moscovitz about my missing rocky road ice cream or the fact that my friends have all turned into hormonal teenage girls, but the fact that Michael Moscovitz will be there as well settles the matter entirely; there is no way I'd ever discuss my feelings about anything with him present.  
  
~Later: Helen's~  
  
Dinner was surprisingly pleasant. More so because Michael was not present. It was simply the Drs. and Lilly. We exchanged holiday stories; the Moscovitzs went to Florida to visit with Lilly's grandparents.  
  
I told them a bit of my time at home and reassured them that I was not missing it terribly much right now.  
  
To my surprise, I do not miss Grandmere and Genovia all that much right now. Tonight I have to read half of *Wuthering Heights* (British Classic? Please.) Lilly and I are also supposed to go out this weekend for a strange concoction called "Bubble Tea" that she was introduced to recently by friends at NYU. She has offered to bring me to one of their social events on Friday but I politely declined.  
  
As I got into the car to be taken back to Helen's, I couldn't help but feel a strange sense of complaisance. The Moscovitzs are good company (well, 3/4 of them anyhow); they are learned, genteel, and quite congenial. Charming.  
  
Interesting.  
  
~January 5: Helen's~  
  
Lilly stopped by unexpectedly today and brought with her Tina Hakim Baba, who I met at the Moscovitz Christmas party. Tina went the same high school as Lilly but did not truly become friends with her until they got to college, because they both attend NYU. It was in the interest of Shameeka's love life that they first interacted.  
  
It's impressive, really, because Tina is so romantic, and Lilly is quite literal. I almost imagine Lilly periodically shooting Tina and her romantic fairy tales down. Tina's mother is related in some distant way to Maddy's family, but she herself does not interact much with them.  
  
Despite not having all that much to talk about in the beginning, Tina and I formed a fairly easy attachment, especially when we discovered we had penchants for shopping at the same boutiques. This is good because Lilly despises that hobby of mine, and I was feeling quite at a loss without my usual shopping partner Maddy. We have arranged to go shopping together this weekend.  
  
Michael Moscovitz remains a phantom about the Moscovitz household. I went for my session today and again he was not around anywhere.  
  
It's not as if I care and I certainly did not inquire over his absence.  
  
Most likely, he's found another girlfriend to lead him about here and there. Well, I for one am elated; he needed to get out of that apartment anyhow and see how nicely I am coming along in my acclimation to the States now that I no longer see him?  
  
~January 14: Chemistry~  
  
Lilly wishes that I attend a formal with her and Tina over at NYU in a week.  
  
I do not know how formals at the American college level work and upon asking Tina about it, was informed that a "formal" at college is quite less formal than any of my most casual cocktail parties.  
  
When I asked Lilly whom my escort would be she informed me that it would be quite all right if I went "stag".  
  
Stag?  
  
I have never attended a function where there is to be dancing and dining on my own, and should I ever, I would never presume to label the situation in such a bland-sounding banal word!  
  
~January 15: Helen's~  
  
What a disaster!  
  
I have a BLIND DATE to the formal!  
  
It is a complete nightmare and I only hope that Grandmere never gets wind of this for I do not think she'd ever forgive me.  
  
Furthermore, I am not taking to the idea very well, and when first told of the situation vehemently declined attending the event altogether. However, Lilly informed me that the tickets were already bought and that my escort had already been secured.  
  
And it would be too impolite of me to reject these efforts that all these people have made for me.  
  
What does one say when setting up the princess of Genovia anyhow? "I've got this girl you've GOT to meet."  
  
~January 17: Lilly's bedroom~  
  
An hour to go before the formal. Lilly and Tina are out on an emergency run for nail polish remover; there was an accident.  
  
Our party tonight shall include Lilly and Boris, Tina and her most recent test-run, and of course, myself and my escort.  
  
Lilly has remained tightlipped on the identity of my escort, just saying that he is "some guy she knows". I do not know what that means. It could be that she prefers for me not to know. I wonder if she is giving the same lack of courtesy to my escort; does he know who I am? Does he know he will be escorting the Princess of Genovia to this formal?  
  
Does he expect me to act a certain way?  
  
I despise dates. I have never had a romantic date before in my life...the only men I've known have known me all my life. They are usually too old or too sensational to merit involvement. Usually, Rene escorts me to functions, or my father.  
  
So I do not have to be anything but a young princess.  
  
But how does one behave on a date? Should I be a princess tonight as well?  
  
Oh! I hear them outside. Preparations must continue...and I shall be very busy...  
  
...these women really have no idea how to properly curl their hair.  
  
~Later: Hotel Bathroom~  
  
I'm going to kill her the minute I get a word with her in private.  
  
Lilly has the sickest sense of humor imaginable!  
  
I'm simply going to stay here until this formal ends.  
  
I just can't believe  
  
~Later: Helen's~  
  
I forgive her completely.  
  
Lilly had her own weird agenda, but tonight's events more than made up for the misery of being fixed up with Michael Moscovitz.  
  
Never mind that part of the evening, though. That torture was only an hour and a slow-dance long. Not like the eternity I shall share with my most perfect future prince consort Roderick Jeremy Shriver.  
  
Roddy.  
  
Of the blue eyes and Genovian chocolate brown hair. Of sophistication. Of tradition. Of a bloodline that is as good as royalty in the United States.  
  
Alas, though by blood he is a Kennedy, by name he is not. And that is his only (minor) flaw.  
  
Roddy is an art history major in NYU with ambitions to go into politics (with his bloodline and connections, could he possibly consider anything else?) He is urbane, witty, and quite elegant. And the best part is that I am even attracted to him. VERY much so.  
  
Prince Consort Roderick Jeremy Shriver Renaldo.  
  
It does possess quite a grand and lovely ring to it. It tickles the tongue.  
  
We first met when I was dancing with Young Moscovitz. "Lady in Red" (I shall NEVER EVER hear that song again without having my heart set aflutter!) was just finishing, and I was more than ready to get out of Moscovitz's arms. I had said something to the effect of conveying that sentiment when I met HIS eyes across the room.  
  
Roddy was by the punch with three other young handsome men.  
  
Unlike Moscovitz, who wore coat and tie, HE was in a tuxedo.  
  
Unlike Moscovitz, HE carried an air of elegance, style, sophistication, and oh yes, even royalty. In a word: Perfection.  
  
A feeling of nervousness came over me. I did not know what to do. I craved an introduction. However, I could not simply walk over! I do believe I was in shock.  
  
I must say, this pleasant frisson...I've never experienced it before. All my nerves are vibrating and trembling and even now I feel that the world is throbbing with excitement.  
  
Surely, he must have been attracted to me as I to him, for he walked over to Moscovitz and me afterwards and introduced himself and invited me to dance with him. And after that? Well, I've just had the most thrilling night of my life, even despite the Moscovitz mess in the beginning.  
  
And now he (Roddy, not Moscovitz) has secured my phone number. Not just any phone number, however: the number of my mobile, which only five other people in this world have: Father, Grandmere, Helen, Lars, and Maddy.  
  
We have plans to go to a New York Philharmonic concert next weekend.  
  
I do not KNOW how I shall deal with the trivialities of real life for the next week!  
  
~Even later: Helen's~  
  
Can't sleep.  
  
He just makes me so HAPPY. I've never felt this happy before. Every time I close my eyes I can see him, with his pretty hair and charming eyes. His lovely cultured and velvety voice. I melt when I replay the memories of his smiles.  
  
And it's just so WONDERFUL to think that such a beautiful specimen of man should find me lovely! Because that's what he said. He said, "You're the darlingest, loveliest creature!"  
  
I've been paid compliments before, but always by people who were saying so to be polite.  
  
Never by anyone who really MEANT it.  
  
Oh I shall NEVER get sleep tonight! Lucky that I can sleep in tomorrow!  
  
I promised Lilly I'd call her...I'd do so now, but it's much too late; she's already asleep. But I shall tell her EVERYTHING tomorrow. After I graciously forgive her for her lapse of sanity in setting me up with her brother, of course.  
  
Because I haven't let go of that yet.  
  
But enough of Michael Moscovitz! Who can think of Michael Moscovitz when one's loveliest, darlingest mind has more pleasant things to contemplate?  
  
~January 18: Helen's~  
  
I am EMBARASSED to read what I wrote last night!  
  
I am still obscenely happy, of course, but really, what childishness!  
  
Roddy Shriver is certainly a wonderful young man, but I mustn't be too eager. After all, I am Princess Amelia Mignonette Grimaldi Renaldo. One of the most eligible ladies in the world. Any alliance made with me should be seen as an honor. And Grandmere would have been ashamed to see how last night I had so willingly bestowed my favors on anyone, never mind how worthy he was of them. My favors, she's always informed me, have to be gained with much effort.  
  
I only hope I did not make a fool of myself with him.  
  
But somehow, I just can't help it. My heart beats so loudly around him that I can't seem to hear myself think.  
  
~Later: Helen's~  
  
Lilly has been appropriately scolded, and then thanked for unwittingly introducing me to Roddy.  
  
And SHE is happy for ME!  
  
You'd think that SHE found her soulmate last night instead of I, for all the happiness that she is simply oozing with. And she hasn't even met him!  
  
But it is quite nice, to have a friend who shares in your joys. When Maddy first dating David the drummer (her man of '99) I confess to feelings less generous: jealousy and loneliness. (Not that I wanted David...I just felt a bit abandoned in my own little single world).  
  
I hope she tells Michael. Though I think he knows. He must have noticed my not being at all with him after that first dance.  
  
It was terribly rude of me to simply abandon him.  
  
I suppose I should apologize.  
  
A rather discomfiting thought.  
  
~January 20: Chemistry~  
  
Still have not yet apologized.  
  
Between my classes (the work I must do for chemistry is abominable), sessions with the Moscovitzs, finding time to hang out with Lilly, and of COURSE spending gobs and gobs of time with Roddy, I hardly have had a second to even contemplate unpleasant business like apologies.  
  
Though I know the longer I wait the worse it'll get.  
  
The worse what'll get? His opinion of me? Really, I do not think it could sink lower.  
  
Perhaps the apology itself is just a useless little thing.  
  
He didn't seem to take my last apology to him with any semblance of respect or understanding.  
  
It'd do well for SOMEONE to injure his pride every once in a while.  
  
And why not me?  
  
I don't really like him all that much. Honestly, I do not know why I even feel compelled to apologize to him.  
  
More than that, did I really do anything wrong? I did abandon him, but he abandoned me first...not literally, but had he been conversing with me or perhaps even AWARE of my presence in general, I might not have sought the attentions of another man.  
  
Well, not just any man. It is true, had Michael actually been the most fascinating creature, I would still have fallen for Roddy.  
  
Because Roddy is STILL the most beautiful wonderful man ever.  
  
So should I apologize because he's not as great as Roddy?  
  
~January 22: Moscovitzs' Bathroom~  
  
Mortified. Angry. And Confused.  
  
How do I end up in this bathroom time and time again?  
  
It should not come as a surprise that Michael does not like Roddy.  
  
I mean, had I not been saying from the beginning that the very qualities that drew me to Roddy were qualities that Michael sorely lacked?  
  
I came to the Moscovitzs' for the single purpose of apologizing today, but managed to embarrass myself further instead. Honestly, I should just keep my mouth shut around Young Moscovitz. I can't seem to maintain any semblance of serenity or even sanity around him.  
  
I tried to explain the situation! I was calm! I was the EMBODIMENT of diplomacy!  
  
I suppose I should have organized my thoughts more, because I ended up babbling and saying things I ended up regretting...about how I blamed Michael for not being particularly interesting, and generously absolving him of all guilt or blame with the explanation that had he been at his most charming, he simply could not have stopped love at first sight.  
  
But what he did next was inexcusable. HE LAUGHED.  
  
Embarrassed, I admitted to my own incredulity of the idea of love at first sight (one MUST be humble and generous when one is offering apologies) but that was BEFORE I saw Roddy.  
  
And then he laughed at Roddy. I can't believe I'm writing this down, because my hands are trembling even as I CONTEMPLATE the remark, but it must be archived so that my ire can be recorded as justified: "You mean that J Crew cutout that I saw you gaga over last night? I suppose the fairy tales are true then: Princesses ALWAYS fall in love at first sight," He sneered.  
  
I was NOT gaga. I am NEVER obvious, and I told him so.  
  
To which he responded with his DOUBTFUL laugh. The laughs of Michael Moscovitz are of many tones, and ALWAYS hurtful to me in some form.  
  
"I was NOT gaga!"  
  
He just laughed more at that.  
  
"And maybe it WAS attraction at first, but I got to know him. He is everything I want in a man."  
  
He looked doubtful, so I HAD to go on. "He's intelligent, willy, and charming. He dresses nicely, and I don't think he'd traipse about his home without a shirt on. He doesn't treat me like a child, he doesn't call me 'princess' in that belittling way you use. He doesn't provoke me to embarrass myself in front of all and sundry, and he likes me. HE LIKES ME."  
  
And then I ran.  
  
I still don't know what anything I said means. I hope it doesn't come off that I'm starved for friendship or anything like that. Or that I was in any way using HIM as a standard for comparing men.  
  
Because Michael Moscovitz ranks LOW. ANY man would do better than HIM.  
  
It just rankles my heart to know that I am so weak to him.  
  
I suppose some people know which nerves to hit.  
  
Michael Moscovitz is the king of them all.  
  
So what should I do next?  
  
I hope he's not outside in the hall waiting to laugh at me some more for my foolish behavior.  
  
I wish Lilly were home. No one is home but Horrid Michael. Maybe I should stay in the bathroom until she gets back.  
  
~January 23: Helen's~  
  
I don't ever want to go back to Moscovitzs'. I waited for an HOUR in the bathroom until Lilly got back home before I left that bathroom. The idea of a possible confrontation mortified me too much. That, and every time I THOUGHT of resting my eyes on that jerk again it was just too much; my fists would clench and I'd grind my jaw.  
  
The Genovian government could be FILLED with jerks like him...will I shout and embarrass myself in front of them, too? Steady, Amelia. You MUST overcome this strange aversion to his personality type. You will come across many like him in the future.  
  
I consoled myself with Rocky Road with Lars later...I couldn't bring Lilly because then I'd have to tell her about why I was at her apartment, when only her brother was home, and I'm still too embarrassed to talk about it. I couldn't bring Roddy with me, though I longed to hear his reassuring voice, because he was busy with his studies, and I am not entirely sure that an ice cream parlor is exactly a place for a man like Roddy. I'm not entirely sure if he'd approve of my eating ice cream in such a normal setting either.  
  
So it was just Lars and me. Which was fine.  
  
Lars doesn't say much, and yesterday was no different. I am so glad that he does not offer his opinions on how I should live my life; I already get more than enough of it from everyone else.  
  
But I'll have to see the Moscovitzs' again soon enough. What will I say when I see Michael again? (I see that time and time again, my life seems to take that theme...maybe I should just never see him again and therefore solve all my problems: past, present, and future).  
  
~January 24: Helen's~  
  
An excellent day, if I may say so. Class was not so boring; we discussed Hardy today in literature, and chemistry was not incomprehensible.  
  
No session with the Moscovitzs' today: they are out of town for a conference. So, instead I spent my afternoon with Roddy.  
  
Mmmm I do believe the more time I spend with him, the more I love him.  
  
Roddy, I mean. Who else could I mean?  
  
He just makes me feel so beautiful and glamorous and witty when he's around. His adoration is so very sincere and fathomless. I only hope that he knows how much I adore him. I hope that I make him feel the same way.  
  
We had our first tabloid article today, and Tina called to tell me that she'd read a tiny tidy bit on us in "Teen People".  
  
Maddy called in raptures tonight, eager to welcome me into the world of the public love life. I almost tried to explain to her about how my relationship was different from all her affairs, and that it didn't deserve to be cheapened into a tabloid romance like all hers, but I thought the better of it when I realized I'd somehow probably insult her.  
  
My father called tonight as well; the story's been leaked to Genovian papers and my romance has made the front page, displacing the latest coverage on the distressing decrease in olive crop yields this year.  
  
He took the news of Roddy a bit more poorly than I thought; I had imagined that he'd be more than happy, what with Roddy being almost a Kennedy and quite appropriate for a Princess's consort and all. After all, I could be dating someone like Michael Moscovitz. I suppose he is simply suffering from the idea that his little daughter is starting to become a woman.  
  
And I can't do a thing about that.  
  
~January 27: Helen's~  
  
There is nothing more embarrassing than trying to explain your romantic feelings to your Father and psychologists at the same time.  
  
Well, I suppose that if Young Moscovitz had been there too it would have been worse.  
  
But now Father wants to meet Roddy.  
  
I suppose that it shouldn't be a problem.  
  
But, well, Roddy and I, we're taking it slowly. I'm not sure if he thinks of me as his girlfriend yet. I personally think that the meeting should be put off until later.  
  
Lilly has not met Roddy yet either. Roddy and I are reluctant to introduce friends at this time...because we're still getting into things. Besides, I do not think I'd like to share his attention with anyone yet.  
  
I'll just have to put off all introductions another month or so.  
  
Besides, Lars knows him, and he's the most important one, right? He's the one that worries about me being killed. And Lars is an excellent judge of character. So surely, since he has not thrown Roddy to the ground and injured him, Roddy's definitely not a bad person. After all, he's not out to kill me. 


	7. Part 7

Author's Note: My apologies for the HUUUUGE monstrous delay in getting this out, but I'm back!  
  
~February 2: Helen's~  
  
Another lovely Friday night!  
  
Roddy Roddy Roddy. I've turned into a sorry silly little creature, I'm afraid, but I can never seem to get over it!  
  
I feel so...lovely!  
  
The person I was a month ago wasn't half as special as the person I am now. Or maybe I always was but I just didn't know it. But it all adds up to one thing: Roddy makes me special.  
  
Sigh.  
  
~February 4: Chemistry~  
  
Why is it that whenever I am upset, Young Moscovitz is at the root of my problems?  
  
And I KNOW this is a completely RIDICULOUS trifling thing to be miffed over. Not even worth my consideration. And I shouldn't feel horrid over it.  
  
I missed his birthday.  
  
I don't even understand why I feel any guilt over this matter!  
  
And what would I have done had I remembered the blasted date anyhow? Got him another sweater? I think we've already established the complete lack of affection I have for him. Devoid of all knowledge of his preferences, and completely apathetic to whether or not he actually likes what I get him.  
  
Really, it's better this way.  
  
I mean, no one expected me to know his birthday, right?  
  
I wasn't ever MEANT to find out...I only discovered this random detail when Lilly mentioned in passing an incident that occurred while the Moscovitz family was out to celebrate the wretched occasion.  
  
I don't begrudge the man a birthday. I suppose I wished that he had the consideration to have it after I had ferreted out when it was. I know I was not actively trying to discover when his birthday was, but...  
  
So I screwed up. This was a screw-up WAITING to happen. I was never going to ask. But I was sneaky enough to at least find out from Boris when Lilly's is (JULY 16!!!!! DON'T FORGET!!!!!)  
  
So now what do I do now? Lame belated birthday card? Just not mention it?  
  
If he'd only been like normal college seniors and gone out with FRIENDS and gotten severely drunk, mayhaps I would have known.  
  
But isn't Michael Moscovitz simply a paragon of family values, taking in a private dinner with the family, and not mentioning it to a single soul?  
  
~February 6: Moscovitz bathroom~  
  
How is it that I could have had such a peaceful, lovely existence for the past seventeen and half years? In the last six months I've degenerated into a blubbering, incoherent idiot! And my life is filled with social mines that explode in my face every other day!  
  
And I lay these charges directly on Michael Moscovitz! (as if it'd be anyone else!)  
  
Today, in fact, five minutes ago, my guilt overwhelmed me and I simply blurted out to Michael that I had not known that his birthday had passed and that I felt horrible.  
  
And then I ASKED HIM TO DINNER TO MAKE REPARATIONS.  
  
What was I thinking? I'm pretty sure that my mind had at that point completely fizzled out.  
  
Ask Michael Moscovitz out for dinner? The whole idea makes me cringe in disgust! How would we EVER survive a WHOLE MEAL on our own?  
  
But there it was.  
  
And (this part embarrasses me to no end, and I was tempted not to even write it down) he laughed and said no.  
  
Well, that's not the embarrassing part.  
  
This is. He LEANED towards me. And I was quite surprised to find that he didn't smell completely unpleasant. In fact, he smelled quite...handsome. I can't describe it. It only worsens the situation because what he said next completely angered and flustered me!  
  
He said: "Look, Princess. I wasn't going to say this, but I've realized that it isn't going to just go away. I think I know the reason why you always act so schitzo around me: for some unfathomable reason, you are TOTALLY attracted to me. You can't reason it, and I certainly can't. (JERK JERK JERK JERK!!!!!!!!) But you're just hurting yourself by denying it. And covering it up with your golden boy isn't going to help you any. So I'm going to save you some time: you should just admit that you've got it bad for me. Once you do, you'll make a fool of yourself a bit more in front of me, but once you realize that I'm not interested and I'm certainly not good for you, I'm sure that things will be better, and you won't embarrass yourself in front of me anymore."  
  
I was completely speechless. What does one SAY? I BADLY wanted to bruise his ego, but I was in a state of complete shock! What was I SUPPOSED to say?  
  
He walked away before I could say anything, and so now I'm in here.  
  
Well, he's just crazy.  
  
~February 10: Helen's~  
  
I can't believe his audacity!  
  
I'm in LOVE with RODDY SHRIVER. RODDY SHRIVER MAKES MY STOMACH TREMBLE WHEN HE SMILES AT ME. (I suppose Michael Moscovitz does as well, but in a different way...more like in dread...he can't be smiling for a GOOD reason.)  
  
RODDY SHRIVER IS LOVELY.  
  
MICHAEL MOSCOVITZ IS NOT.  
  
That settled, I have decided to expel him from my thoughts. A mind so delightfully occupied with one's very own beautiful prince consort should NOT have any reflections on Michael Moscovitz polluting it!  
  
So he is gone from my mind.  
  
Today I worked a lot on chemistry. It's very annoying. What do they think I'll need it for, anyhow? I haven't even learned how to cook...what do I care if oxygen single or doubly bonds to itself?  
  
How could he believe I'm in love with him?  
  
Gah.  
  
~February 13: Chemistry~  
  
I have the darlingest, loveliest boyfriend in the world!  
  
So wonderful that after a fantabulous dinner, we are going (get this) dancing at the Rainbow Room.  
  
No man EVER volunteers to bring his girlfriend dancing unless it means true love!  
  
I know that most likely both of us have been dancing at parties and balls as long as we've known how to walk. I know that Roddy certainly doesn't mind dressing up, as I've never seen him "slumming it"...he dresses so wonderfully all the time.  
  
So I guess it's NOT supposed to be a BIG deal that we're going out dancing, because we do it regularly most of the time.  
  
But it's still quite romantic! I mean, I'm sure Moscovitz would have simply suggested something quite bourgeoisie like making a special dinner at home and watching the Star Wars trilogy together.  
  
Can you see any girl swooning over that?  
  
~February 14: Rainbow Room~  
  
I am MORTIFIED.  
  
I have no idea what to do right now.  
  
And I feel amazingly used. I can't really feel bad about this, though, because he didn't know. Roddy, I mean.  
  
At least, I don't think so. I hope not.  
  
Paris Hilton showed up at the Rainbow Room tonight alone.  
  
Paris is a darling, but I try not to associate too much with her; Father does not approve of my running about with the "fast" set.  
  
Anyhow, Roddy and I had been slowly dancing and smiling dreamily at each other for only five minutes when the stunning Paris Hilton entered. Upon settling her gaze upon me and Roddy, her eyes widened. And I do believe that the expression I identified in them was HURT.  
  
"Paris Hilton is looking at me as if I showed up in her favorite pair of Manolo Blahniks," I said casually.  
  
And the strangest most beautiful light came into his expression. He never looked like that when I was with him. "Really?" he asked hopefully.  
  
Being a veteran of all affairs involving people since babyhood, I identified the situation right away: dear Roddy was in love. With Paris Hilton. And Paris Hilton was in love with Roddy.  
  
And the coupling was just so disgustingly beautiful that I knew I could not do a thing about it.  
  
(By the by, I think it startlingly unfair that beautiful people can love each other. There's just too much...blonde when I think of those two. I think Roddy would look infinitely better with a darker type...a brunette, like...me. But I'm biased. And wrong, apparently.)  
  
Anyhow, I remained silent throughout the rest of the song, letting the situation sink in. My boyfriend was in love with someone else. Someone else that somehow was better for him than I.  
  
HOW IS THAT POSSIBLE?  
  
I am confused. I don't know what I should and do feel. I want to go out and fight. But that would probably be bad press.  
  
And after all, he loves HER. Not me. Fighting it wouldn't bring about anything good. As much as it pains me to say it, I can't make him love me.  
  
I sound disgustingly noble, but I'm not trying to.  
  
I suppose it's time to leave.  
  
~February 17: Helen's~  
  
How embarrassing!  
  
I suppose I had not thought ahead of time what it would be like to be dumped.  
  
Even farther from my mind was what it would be like for the PRINCESS OF GENOVIA to be dumped.  
  
It takes a morbid fascinating sensationalist tone splashed across the tabloids: "Princess Gets Dumped by Kennedy Boyfriend for Hotel Heiress".  
  
You'd think they'd be more sensitive to a girl going through her first breakup. But no, there were even pictures! I am only glad that I DIDN'T confront the two afterwards!  
  
And Paris Hilton, of all people! Not to say I think her wanting in charisma, tact, as well as social politeness in general, but....well. I do. To be dumped by a woman with her own reality TV show about living the simple life?  
  
And what's WORSE! I was just a puddle today at lunch. A crying, disgusting, self-pitying puddle today. It had to be the most mortifying moment of my life. And I had no control over my facilities. I just went on and on to a random table of perfectly nice people, who all now probably think...gah! Why did I have to be so weak? In public?  
  
And why did Michael Moscovitz have to be there?  
  
So now I'm heartbroken, angry, AND embarrassed.  
  
And there is no way I'm going to go to the Moscovitz's later tonight! It would absolutely kill me. KILL me. The embarrassment of acknowledging to...  
  
It just-  
  
~Later~  
  
Lilly called and told me that she canceled my session with her parents.  
  
Lovely Lilly.  
  
But now I have to spend time with her. She's stopping by later.  
  
It's not that I dislike Lilly, but I just...don't want to go out right now.  
  
Or do anything.  
  
I just want to hide here in my room and contemplate finishing my education back in Genovia.  
  
Why didn't Father just listen to me in the very beginning?  
  
~February 18: Calculus~  
  
What a darling, Lilly.  
  
She picked me up and we went for ice cream, and she let me say whatever I wanted, and didn't psychoanalyze me and said she wouldn't tell her parents anything about what I told her.  
  
I feel a lot better. She didn't really offer any advice (I think she'd despise herself if she uttered trite platitudes like "more fish in the sea" and "you can't hurry love") but it was just nice to have someone listen, and not have any ulterior motives.  
  
Helen has been surprisingly supportive and kind throughout this debacle. She's pulled me out of my room at appropriate intervals for meals and a few episodes of Baywatch, and has even attempted an awkward pep talk, fraught with signs that she cares, but useless in that she has not been able to take the pain away. Nevertheless, I am glad she has been so nice to me.  
  
Thankfully, all the excitement over my being dumped has been swept out of the papers; Wills has a new girlfriend and EVERYONE is dying to read about her instead. God Save the Future King!  
  
~February 21: Helen's~  
  
I miss him. I miss the way he smiles the way he holds my hand, and the way he just...is.  
  
I'm pathetic, I know. This mockery of a relationship did not even last a full month! I should be resilient. I should be out to dinner with a new boyfriend.  
  
But...  
  
It's stupid to contemplate this! Absolutely stupid! I can't change the way he feels. I can't change the fact that even though I've NEVER been in love with anyone in my entire life, I was halfway...more than halfway...in love with him.  
  
~February 23: Hilton Hotel Restroom~  
  
HE'S out there right now!  
  
Of COURSE he'd be! I came to a reception at the HILTON HOTEL!!!! Of course Paris would be here, though admittedly this isn't her usual cup of tea. But of course if the Hiltons are sponsoring the soiree she'd be here, with her escort!  
  
I saw them enter. They have not yet seen me, and I would prefer for it to stay that way. They might not even notice me, selfish beings that they are...  
  
...But if they feel sorry for me, I'll...I'll throw ice down Paris's low- cut Vera Wang. I mean it!  
  
I already saw Myra here, and she's ready to gloat over my misfortune. She's already been to the restroom, pretending to fix her lipstick, while I pretended to fix a loose strap on my dress. Cold-hearted dreadful woman.  
  
And now I'm still in the restroom, and Lilly's come to check on me. What am I going to do?  
  
I've already told her I'm going to wait out the entire party here.  
  
This is wrong, of course. I know I'm being a coward. I know I'm being childish. I know all about how humiliating my situation is. But I am far too flustered right now to do a thing.  
  
Now she claims she's got it all solved.  
  
Solved? How could I possibly get out this situation? Helen, Franklin, the Moscovitzs are all out there. How can I go out there confront their concern and shrug it off?  
  
If Helen shows the least concern, which I know she will, I'll just burst out into tears I know it!  
  
Why did I have to see them again in such a public place?  
  
I have to find a way to collect myself, and I have to go up to them at some point tonight and talk with them. Grandmere has already told me a public face of the careless, unhurt Princess Amelia was all that was needed to silence the gossips forever.  
  
I KNOW what I have to do. I just really really really don't want to do it.  
  
And Lilly! I know she cares about me. I know she wants me to be happy, and she has this psychobabble reason why I should go and seize this opportunity and "confront my feelings and find closure".  
  
She's left and come back three times now, and this time she's looking pretty scary. I think she's got a plan. And I don't think I'm going to like it.  
  
~Later: Helen's~  
  
What a horrible turn of events!  
  
Only one good thing came out of this unfortunate mess; closure was obtained.  
  
Or at least, I'm not obsessing about Roddy and Paris anymore.  
  
But NO, instead...of all the egotistical, stupid things to do!  
  
And now. GAH!  
  
I'm not speaking to Lilly for the next century.  
  
~February 22: Helen's~  
  
I woke up today to the smell of hot chocolate and pancakes, and for a second, I thought everything was all right.  
  
But then I remembered that of all things that could happen, I now appear to be dating Michael Moscovitz, not even TWO WEEKS after breaking it off with the One Who Could Have Been The Love Of My LIFE! And I started wallowing in my own misery again.  
  
Someone just shoot me now, and end this miserable, clumsy life.  
  
~Later: Helen's~  
  
It's not like I can just dump him. That would make me look even worse.  
  
Well, I suppose I should explain the situation.  
  
Lilly decided to foist her brother on me AGAIN. He was coerced, by Lilly AND his parents to play the knight and be my escort. But then, oh GOD then.  
  
This was bad enough, but then Roddy HAD to come up, and I HAD to be a stupid jealous heartbroken fool. In my feeble attempt to make him (Roddy) jealous, (oh, how I despise myself!) I proceeded to introduce Michael as my new BOYFRIEND, in front of EVERYONE who was watching. Myra was in disbelief, and she MUST know I was lying...she KNOWS how much Michael hates me.  
  
I felt Michael's arm, which I was holding on to for dear life, stiffen, but he remained silent and neither contradicted nor supported me in this foolish foolish farce.  
  
I KNOW he's angry with me now, though, I KNOW it, and I have to get him to come around and pretend to date me for at least a while so that I don't look like a flighty creature who flits from man to man.  
  
I have no idea how I'm going to convince him to do this, and I don't want to see him now. But the sooner I see him, the sooner I can clear things up.  
  
I REALLY don't want to be in the position of being in DEBT to him, though. Of all people.  
  
He is a compassionate person, though. Perhaps explaining to him my situation (as demeaning as that would be) would sway him.  
  
I have not said a word of this to Helen, and she's tried to be supportive. But I can see her lack of true understanding of the situation. To her, I'm just her spoiled estranged daughter, overreacting. But this is a REAL problem to me. I can't talk to her about this. I KNOW she doesn't want to hear it anyway.  
  
~Later: Helen's~  
  
He has SOME NERVE!!!!!! I can't believe!  
  
GAAAH!  
  
~Even later: Helen's~  
  
He didn't take me seriously at all!  
  
I approached the matter delicately and seriously, and explained to him the situation. And he laughed!  
  
He had the nerve to claim that I was being petty and overly self-conscious!  
  
I realize to HIM it seems like a small thing. And...well. I KNOW there are starving children in the world, and wars, famines, floods and all sorts of disasters. I KNOW that there are more important things than my reputation and love life...  
  
But I do not want my...my...emotional clumsiness to be fodder for someone else's gossip! I just picture my Father when he hears of my revolving boyfriends...this news could KILL Grandmere!  
  
Maddy, Wills, the other royals can afford to be irresponsible. They are charming and can carry themselves off any way they please.  
  
But I'm not like that. I've stayed quiet news most of my life. And once I take my reign, I will continue to stay that way. I am NOT a person given to flights of fancy or dalliance. I do not have Wills's smile to charm my way out, nor Maddy's position of NOT being heir to the throne.  
  
But I never thought that to preserve my reputation I'd come to this.  
  
I'm paying him. $100 to Greenpeace for every week we date.  
  
Insufferable man!  
  
I don't even want to THINK about what would happen if anyone found out about our deal. Lilly is not even going to know...we're just going to tell her that we just talked it out and decided this was best.  
  
And I've sworn Michael to secrecy, under punishment of DEATH should he ever breathe a WORD about this deal.  
  
Paying a boy to go out with me? Grandmere would certainly die if she ever found out.  
  
~February 24: Helen's~  
  
An A on my chemistry exam!!! I have an A! A solid, unquestionable A.  
  
I want to celebrate! I want to dance! I want to shout it from the rooftops: Amelia, Princess of Genovia, is good at chemistry!  
  
Franklin, Helen and I went out to dinner tonight to celebrate. It was a momentous occasion: I was beyond relieved that I've proved to be good at SOMETHING. I only hope that I prove this proficiency in my economics midterm next week....  
  
But that's next week. This week, I shall be happy. I shall celebrate.  
  
Today was a good day for me and Helen. She's been rather reticent as of late. She has not said a word on my relationship with Michael Moscovitz. She's been friendly, of course, but I already know she wants to avoid involvement in this matter. I, too, would also like to avoid discussing Michael, as I am not especially good at concealing things from Helen...she has this strange way of being able to draw things out of me. It must be a Mother thing. Either way, I am far too embarrassed to tell her the whole story and so I avoid the topic altogether. If she found out, I don't know how she'd react, but...the fewer people involved in this mess, the better.  
  
I am going to an art exhibit opening tomorrow, and I am taking Michael with me. I only hope that he doesn't embarrass me. This is the first real formal event for "us".  
  
As for our "relationship"...He is annoying and nearly unbearably teasing even when we're in public, though his public face does avoid issues particularly sensitive to me, such as Roddy and Calculus. When we're in public, I pretend to take it in good stride, and smile and laugh, but when we're in private I simmer.  
  
I remarked to him a few days ago while we were in the elevator (alone) going up to his apartment for my session with his parents (you can imagine how awkward THAT is now) that I was paying him to be a devoted boyfriend and such behavior was not becoming of one.  
  
To which he laughed and replied that if I had actually wanted him to be good all the time, I should have paid him more!  
  
I did not deign to reply, but I wanted to box his ears and wipe that stupid grin off his face.  
  
But I shall not dwell on my inadequate boyfriend right now. I, Princess Amelia Renaldo, proficient in Lewis Diagrams and Ideal Gas Law, am going to have a cup of hot chocolate with Helen Thermopolis, my mother, before I go to sleep. 


	8. Part 8

February 25: Helen's  
  
I suppose I should have expected the talk over my quick change of boyfriend. I suppose that after Roddy Shriver, Michael Moscovitz would appear to be quite...lacking.  
  
But I did not expect my Father to show up, and APPROVE.  
  
I don't know what I was thinking. I suppose at some point, the two had to meet in a social setting. But we're not even in a real relationship. It almost feels wrong to involve anyone else in a lie. But of course, Father does not know that. Father thinks we're madly in love. And though I had expected him to protest the match, he has decided to approve.  
  
Moscovitz is hardly Consort material, but, by being counseled by the older generation Moscovitzs, Father has obviously been brainwashed. Either that, or blinded by gratitude to the people who helped him put his life back together after...well after the cancer. I suppose the latter's a good enough reason.  
  
It's almost insulting, really. He's much happier with Michael than he was with Roddy. Father spent a good half hour in easy conversation with Young Moscovitz tonight while I smiled like an idiot for all and sundry.  
  
I was a bit surprised though. I never thought my Father the type to be able to hold conversation with someone like Michael Moscovitz. Neither did I think Moscovitz the kind of person to be able to hold his own POLITELY with royalty. I thought his contempt of our title, our heritage, would have shown through, surely.  
  
But...watching the two in conversation tonight, well, I suspect that...they might enjoy each other's company. As if they'd already spoken and enjoyed each other's company before. As if my Father actually took interesting in Young Moscovitz's fortunes and hobbies. I wonder if it is true.  
  
So now...it's so disgustingly NICE. Everything's disgustingly nice. I spent the evening trying to look dutifully in love with my partner. It did not help that the minute my Father left to catch his plane back to Genovia, the GRIN came back again.  
  
It's so annoying. And now He can do it in a simple look. I'll say something, and he'll look that way at me, and I'll just be frustrated and almost flustered in whatever situation I am in, because I know he is laughing at me.  
  
And the only response I have to that? I smile dotingly. And hate him.  
  
March 13: Lilly's room  
  
My life is boring. Disgustingly happy and boring.  
  
Finally, Moscovitz and I enjoy privacy on our walks back from campus to his apartment, where, according to the tabloids, we are obviously having an intense passionate affair. But in reality, I am meeting with his parents.  
  
Given the options, I suppose I'd keep the affair than let people know that I get psychoanalyzed every week. And so when they see us, I grab his hand a little tighter, lean my head towards his shoulder.  
  
But now that it's been established that I am happy and (with any luck) going to stay boring for a while, they have finally left me back to my quiet existence.  
  
And what does Moscovitz think of all this?  
  
I don't know, nor do I care. I hardly ever really TALK with him, so I have no idea what classes he takes, what he does in his spare time, what he reads, or if he does. What little I know of him is gained from family dinners and the two of us hanging out with Lilly.  
  
Because we can hardly stand each other, we have resorted to continually double dating with Boris and Lilly so that we can at least appear as a couple. Of course, this is only at public events. God forbid we actually go out on a real date.  
  
The older Moscovitzs reserve judgment, and we never speak of Michael during our sessions. That, they said the session after we started "dating", would be a conflict of interest. But, then they said, "As parents, we could not be more pleased that you have reconciled your differences".  
  
The term ends in six weeks, and I have decided to go home to Genovia this summer and do absolutely nothing but enjoy myself. I shall entertain Grandmere, enjoy my days at home, and simply be. Father was appalled by the decision (I suspect that he wanted me to do more with my time) but that's just too bad for him. I came here and did what he wanted for the past half year, and by god I won't let me dictate what I can do on my time off.  
  
Later  
  
Do I have to invite Moscovitz to Genovia?  
  
Father would want him to visit at some point, I suppose. And I should want him there. After all, he's my boyfriend.  
  
Am I still going to be dating him then?  
  
Much Later  
  
I don't even think he KNOWS I'm going to Genovia.  
  
Come to think of it, I have no idea what HE'S doing this summer.  
  
March 17: Helen's  
  
I HATE ECON!!!!  
  
KILL ME NOW!  
  
March 18: Helen's  
  
Life really really sucks right now. I hate it. I have problem sets due, another round of exams, and another round of papers due, and I really have no idea how I'm going to do this all. I know I will, but in the meantime, I'm absolutely miserable.  
  
And, as Moscovitz laughingly informed me on our way back to his apartment today, it is only going to get worse as the end of the term approaches.  
  
Last term was bad, I'll admit. But not THIS bad. It was really only calculus that drove me nuts.  
  
Now...it's everything.  
  
March 20: Helen's  
  
MASS AND ENERGY ARE CONSERVED!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!  
  
March 21: Helen's  
  
It's almost over. One more paper.  
  
Why can't I write it?  
  
I try to concentrate, but I am just so hollow now.  
  
Later  
  
Jamoca ice cream is so very good.  
  
I have the best boyfriend in the world.  
  
So what if his sister forced him to come.  
  
March 24: Chemistry  
  
We JUST got our second exams in chemistry back. ANOTHER A...but this time (no one's going to believe this) it's the HIGHEST GRADE IN THE CLASS.  
  
I am mortified.  
  
I am proud, but I am mortified.  
  
I got a B- on my midterm in Econ and now I get the highest grade in chemistry? How is chemistry going to help me do anything in life? How is chemistry going to help me rule Genovia? And what's the Genovian government going to say when it finds out that its ruler is only moderately good at economics?  
  
I'm a princess. Princesses don't do chemistry.  
  
Later: Lilly's  
  
But I am good at it. It makes sense to me in a way that calculus, physics, and economics do not.  
  
I told Lilly about this dilemma over ice cream in the kitchen. Young Moscovitz was around, as he'd just walked me over. At my mentioning the score to Lilly, I couldn't help but observe his surprised expression and celebrating in it. Because, of course, I was above throwing the score in his face and proving I was smart.  
  
Lilly thinks I am now beginning to achieve true self-awareness. She's thrilled that I'm starting to challenge the roles that I was born to fill. She thinks this fascinating, but I feel like a freak. I was more than reluctant to voice these thoughts and concerns to the older Moscovitzs, but I chose to speak of them nonetheless. After all, they're paid to analyze me.  
  
Just BEGINNING to achieve self-awareness? How can I be behind Maddy in the self-actualization ladder?  
  
Much Later: Helen's  
  
But I DO enjoy it. Chemistry, I mean. I can't explain why. There are things to learn there. It's interesting to me. I'm sure that not everyone enjoys it, but I just do. I happen to like learning about Carnot Cycles and the steady-state approximation.  
  
MUCH Later: Helen's  
  
I told Helen. She was thrilled.  
  
Hehe. Who would have thought the Princess of Genovia, a scientist?  
  
She claims it must be from Father's line, because, she professed, none of the Thermopolises ever exhibited any talent or predilection for the science.  
  
The Renaldo line, scientists? I'd sooner believe that, I suppose. I never met Grandpere. He died before I was born. And I cannot picture Grandmere with a thorough understanding of quantum physics.  
  
April 2: Helen's  
  
Today, Professor Austin asked me if I was interested in majoring in chemistry and invited me to their department open house.  
  
Majoring in CHEMISTRY? Me?  
  
I suppose it makes sense. I do excel at it, but...well, I'm going to major in econ.  
  
But, well, I DO enjoy the subject. Chemistry, I mean.  
  
But really, what's the use of majoring in chemistry? I'm going to be a Princess, and while I enjoy science, I simply can't turn my back on my country and run reactions. I simply have to suck it up.  
  
If I majored in chemistry, what would happen? How could I possibly rule? I'd only know electronegativities and bond dissociation energies. I wouldn't know anything useful.  
  
No, I can't major in chemistry.  
  
I know I can't.  
  
But...well...  
  
No.  
  
April 5: Chemistry  
  
Declaration of major forms are due in three weeks, at the end of term. I filled mine out today.  
  
Of course I put in economics.  
  
I've only to get my advisor to sign my form, and I'll be set.  
  
I went to the open house for chemistry though. After all, Professor Austin himself invited me, and I do like him. He's a very engaging instructor, and I hold his opinion in high esteem.  
  
It was very hard to maintain my objective view that chemistry is completely useless to my future. After all, chemistry itself is a very interesting and useful science. It IS interesting to understand the reactions that give life to people, that create the plastics we use, the preservatives in our food. I mean, chemistry is everywhere.  
  
And I like it.  
  
But I can't find my future there.  
  
So it's going to be economics.  
  
April 7: Lilly's  
  
The deed is done. I've turned in the form, and am now officially an economics major.  
  
I am relieved it is done. The form was burning in my hands. And now that it's gone, well, the decision has been made. There's no going back.  
  
April 10: Helen's  
  
I shouldn't be going out tonight. My last two problem sets in chemistry and economics are due next Wednesday, and I have my final 10-page paper in history and 25-page paper in Brit-Lit due on Friday. And to finish off...the Final exams in all FOUR subjects will be the week following.  
  
But I've got other problems. And I have to take care of them first.  
  
Father called last night to confirm my homecoming.  
  
Then he started on the Summer Ball.  
  
It'd completely slipped my head! I NEVER forget the Summer Ball! It's the one grand event that we host every year, and I had completely forgotten it in my Moscovitz/chemistry drama that I've had in the past term.  
  
I felt extremely guilty, but I told him that I simply could NOT handle the ball preparations until I got home, being overwhelmed with classes.  
  
To which he replied that Grandmere had already taken care of EVERYTHING. And I immediately felt guilty. I've handled Summer Ball preparations since I was fourteen years old. Grandmere doesn't need all that stress. Then, he proceeded to tell me to invite Helen and Franklin to visit at that time, and ask if an invitation to Michael was even necessary to the blasted event, as he was going to be my escort. Father then suggested Michael's coming to VISIT us with his FAMILY this summer. So that Grandmere could meet him, so that...EVERYONE could meet him. And everyone could meet everyone else.  
  
I nearly protested, but, well, with whom would I go to the Summer Ball, if not my current boyfriend? Then Father said, "After all, you've been dating him for a little over month". Father then claimed that it was important to introduce Michael while the relationship was still young, so that the Genovian people could get used to him.  
  
Get used to him? How long are we planning on staying together?  
  
Beyond that, Father's casual mention of the month-long duration chilled me. Our one-month anniversary had passed. I didn't remember when we actually started dating. I had to look back in here to check. But now I've been dating Michael longer than I had been dating Roddy.  
  
Roddy. I confess, I have not given him much thought as of late...in fact, I've been far too busy with my own worries, what with choosing a major, and dating a boy whom I can barely tolerate and who can barely tolerate me. There has been no time to pine over the beautiful elusive Roddy.  
  
Roddy. With his lovely eyes. His laugh.  
  
And now, I'm going to ask Moscovitz to the Summer Ball.  
  
When Roddy and I started dating, I'd always imagined going to the Summer Ball with HIM. I imagined inviting HIS family.  
  
I don't even know how this all will fit in with Moscovitz's plans, either, and I dread telling him, because if he says no, then I'll have to disappoint my father. But if he says yes, well, it will get more complicated. If he says yes, and comes, then...  
  
...then Michael Moscovitz will no longer be the Princess's American Adventure. He'll be Suitor. He'll be Potential Consort.  
  
I can't pay him for the rest of my life! I'm sure he'd demand a raise upon the promotion from boyfriend to husband.  
  
Nor can I picture him there with me for the rest of my life!  
  
Nevertheless, Father seemed so content and happy with me that I did not want to disappoint him. So I told him that I'd talk it over with Michael and his family.  
  
And so tonight, instead of hiding at home and stressing out over finals like other college students, I am finding the best way to ask my boyfriend to come and visit me.  
  
I suspect I'll have to prepare my checkbook.  
  
Later: Helen's  
  
Well, if that wasn't the most awkward evening.  
  
I feel guilty, selfish, and extremely horrible.  
  
The bottom line is that he'll be coming, and his family will be coming. They won't be spending two weeks, as my father anticipated, however. The family can only come for the weekend. The older Moscovitzs have their clients, and Lilly has an internship. As for Michael, who is GRADUATING, he is spending the summer backpacking through Europe before he starts graduate school in computer science at MIT, and he'd arrange to be in Genovia for the week of the Ball...for $1000. (He claims that the intense week merits more money, as he will be putting in more effort. Hooligan.)  
  
I was floored. Graduation, backpacking through Europe, and MIT?!?  
  
How could I FORGET that he was graduating? I felt HORRIBLE that I had forgotten such a significant event in his life. I had to change my plans immediately so that I could be the appropriate doting girlfriend and spend six hours in abject boredom waiting for him to get a piece of paper.  
  
MIT?  
  
That's Boston.  
  
Boston's...not New York.  
  
Backpacking through Europe? Would it seem very odd if the Princess of Genovia's boyfriend was seen running around Europe without her?  
  
I chose not to challenge him on that one. I doubt anyone would recognize him anyhow. Beyond that, I suppose I'll just have to find out if we're in cities at the same time and make appearances with him here and there. We'll coordinate. I'm good at those things.  
  
MIT?  
  
I suppose I should break off the relationship and just let him go. But it's only been a month and now Father's gotten Grandmere and the family involved. He approves and he's happy with me.  
  
But if I'm going to break it off, I should do so now. The longer I wait, the more complicated it's going to be.  
  
And where would that land me?  
  
I suppose it wouldn't be bad to be single again. Moscovitz HAS served his purpose. I am boring once more, and no one is interested in my life's happenings.  
  
But it has only been a month, and well, I'd rather wait until we had a GOOD reason, other than faults on either side...there will be no finger pointing...we need a good excuse, like...  
  
OH MY GOSH! That's it!  
  
We'll break up after we get back from the summer! At that point our relationship will have been at least half a year old, so as not to make me look flippant and we can cite the long distance as being our reason for the breakup! That way it's nobody's fault and we'll look exceedingly sensible.  
  
Brilliant, Amelia! Now where's my econ textbook? I suppose I shall have to start studying for finals now. 


	9. Part 9

April 15: Helen's  
  
How can it not be over? I have nothing left to give!  
  
Stupid econ.  
  
April 23: Lilly's  
  
How can my brain keep on functioning? I was pretty sure that it had fizzled out at least a few days ago.  
  
But here I am staying over at Lilly's, my first year of college finished.  
  
First year finished.  
  
Lilly's quietly reading on the other side of the room. Just as well. I fear any sort of conversation between us would most likely comprise undignified sighs and grunts.  
  
Michael graduates in a week. It is so very boring now, now that all the stress is gone. I suppose I can run off to Europe and come back for his graduation, but I just don't want to. In fact, I don't want to do anything but just...watch Friends episodes.  
  
There are ten seasons. I'm on the fifth one and I only began last week. I remember the names of Chandler's romantic interests more than I can recall the laws of thermodynamics.  
  
Lilly is terrible. She continues to push me to watch more and I've been foolishly weak.  
  
She shows signs of restlessness. Can it be time for more?  
  
April 25: Helen's  
  
Helen has saved me. Well, utilized me, at any rate.  
  
I now have an obsession for BAKING instead.  
  
It started a few nights ago when I helped her make apple crisp.  
  
Since then I've made chocolate mousse, tiramisu, upside-down pineapple cake, and right now I have my very first cherry pie in the oven.  
  
SAD SAD SAD. What has my world come to?  
  
I suppose that once I am back in Genovia, back in my duties, I will feel better. I will no longer drive everyone crazy.  
  
The Moscovitzs claim that my drive to perpetually entertain and amuse myself really is a reflection of an active mind that likes to be continually engaged. That in going to college, I've schooled myself to be constantly alert, thinking, and processing so that now that I am free to do absolutely nothing, I cannot return to the way I was.  
  
Michael claims that it's the control freak in me. He has told me repeatedly to leave him alone, but these days I will take whatever entertainments I can get. Even his company, which I've requested on more than a few occasions, as I can't very well attend events here without him. He doesn't complain when he has my tiramisu, I've noticed. He's been very supportive of this current obsession.  
  
We don't have much to say to each other but I suppose having him around is better than not having anyone.  
  
April 27: Helen's  
  
He graduates in a few days. And once he does, I shall be back HOME. In Genovia. I will have people to see, things to do, and no time to waste.  
  
Thank God.  
  
I think too much. Life can't be different from what it already is. I AM Princess Amelia Renaldo. I CAN'T major in chemistry. I CAN'T always make the choices I want to.  
  
Looking back, economics over chemistry is the first decision that I've ever had to make where I've ended up somewhat worse off for it. A part of me still rebels. Still tells me that it's not too late to change my mind. I have labeled her as my "American" side and have dubbed her Mia, as I imagine that she is, in essence, Helen's daughter.  
  
Mia wants to major in chemistry. She wants to spend the summer in New York working in Professor Austin's lab and take that research fellowship he'd offered. Mia does not possess much common sense, nor does she have any sense of the future or what it will bring. And she doesn't care.  
  
Her views would make any government shudder; no country could exist by her laws or tastes.  
  
Thank God that I don't usually acknowledge her. Because then I'd be unhappy ALL THE TIME. There is NO WAY a Princess of Genovia could pursue the life that Mia would like. There is no way a Princess of Genovia could lead a country with her views. Genovia would be overrun with homeless shelters and stray cats.  
  
I haven't told the Moscovitzs' of Mia's existence. I haven't told them anything, which I know defeats their function in my life. Father is paying them to listen to me gripe about exam scores and stress. They ask me probing questions, I just send them back. I'm not going to tell them how I'm turning into a bleeding heart liberal and slightly schizophrenic. I know they have managed to pick up a few things here and there; they're smart people. However, I believe they're hoping that I will tell them of my problems in my own time. As if I'd trust them!  
  
When I get back to Genovia, I shall have a nice peaceful summer away from analysts. I will be Princess Amelia, and Mia Thermopolis will have no place in that life. She'd hate it.  
  
May 4: HOME! HOME! HOME!  
  
I am currently on my WONDERFUL, COZY, SOFT bed, writing this! The bed I had slept in since I'd moved from the crib. There is a familiar scent of lavender in the air and the sun is falling across the room in long golden strips across the polished hardwood floor.  
  
I hear nothing but the sound of my heart. There are no ambulances, no hooligans. Only pleasant, wonderful, sunshine-filled silence.  
  
Moscovitz graduated two days ago. I sat with his family and looked appropriately proud. We posed for the obligatory graduation pictures, shook hands with more than enough of his friends and wished them well.  
  
And that night, we had a dinner with a few friends of Moscovitz's and their families.  
  
I know it sounds odd, but I'd never met his friends before. They'd never been around the Moscovitzs' apartment really and he was always around when I was, so I sort of assumed that he...well...he had no friends. (I almost feel like a bad person for writing it, but really, I'd never seen them before and the boy is obnoxiously private.)  
  
But they are charming, intelligent people, all disgustingly driven (they are all lined up for various venues of higher education) and it was fun to watch them. I heard of some of his embarrassing episodes when he was a more reckless freshman/sophomore, a story or two of Moscovitz's previous girlfriends (there was philosophy major Linda, and physics major Kathleen) and watched them rib him about his own reticence about his current relationship with me. I had baked a cake for him in my role as dutiful girlfriend (it was Helen's idea), for which I was highly complimented. The cake, apparently, made me the best girlfriend Moscovitz had ever had, according to Jonathan, the future graduate student of computer science at Carnegie-Mellon University.  
  
It was also delightful to see Moscovitz interact with his friends. While he is publicly polite and even sometimes courteous with me, I'd never seen him so at ease. At ease, he's almost wonderful. He's learned and extremely well-read, and though quite casual in his addresses with his friends, his air is not altogether unpleasant. And when he smiles, and really means it, it can be quite a charming experience.  
  
So why does he have to be such a nasty borrish prick around me?  
  
Well, it doesn't matter. He is far, far away from me back in New York, for at least another week before he launches his own European tour. And I am back in Genovia, happy to be home.  
  
May 5: My Room  
  
Lilly called this afternoon!  
  
Was that not sweet of her? She called to ask how I was doing and if I had sufficiently settled down. We talked for a great bit. Lilly is interning at Harper's this summer, which was quite a feat for her though she modestly denies any merit or talent she may possess (precious, dear creature!)  
  
Today...was...long.  
  
I woke up this morning to talk with my assistant Hannah and go over my schedule for the summer. Grandmere had already handled my acceptances and appearances. I confess, the schedule looked...dull.  
  
I don't know. When I chose to come home, I'm sure that I KNEW that this was what I was going to do all summer. I was looking forward to it! After all, I'd spent nine months away from my countrymen! I am a princess.  
  
But it's not as if I was scheduled to attend any sessions of Parliament. I'm not doing anything important. I guess I kind of figured that, as I am a responsible adult and all, that I'd be able to assume more duties.  
  
I wanted to speak to Father about it, but he'd already left for France...and he'll be gone for almost a week!  
  
I didn't tell Lilly any of this, however. I simply told her I was having a fabulous time and that everything was going superbly.  
  
I don't think she believed me. I've noticed that when she's suspicious, her voice lilts a bit more. Well, like her parents, she will not force any confessions out of me.  
  
So I will keep my reservations and regrets to myself.  
  
May 7: Home  
  
Number of cats the Duchess of Henesly owns: 13  
  
Number of tea guests at her "intimate tea": 30  
  
Number of cups of tea I drank to stay awake during tea: 8  
  
Number of ribbons cut today: 2  
  
Number of times I was asked "how was the States?": 45  
  
Number of times I wondered what Lilly was up to: 15  
  
Number of times I thought about chemistry: 10  
  
Number of times I thought about Helen: 11  
  
Number of times I thought about going home and watching Baywatch: 12  
  
Number of times Grandmere glared at me for not paying attention: 23  
  
Number of minutes, total, I thought of...Moscovitz: 250  
  
I'm going out of my mind.  
  
May 9: Home  
  
Oh! I'm confused, thrilled, and ashamed all at once.  
  
I've cracked.  
  
I have a confession to make: Lars and I snuck off to the Ecole Superieure des Sciences de Genovia today. Professor Austin had told me to look up an old colleague of his there and so I went to visit her.  
  
I do not know what I have gotten into. I've got my own obligations for the summer; Hannah gave me the next week of events just yesterday. (see below)  
  
But I just had to! I was curious to see the ESSG, and Professor Austin had said that Genevieve Oulette's work with corroles was fascinating, and she a good person in general, and so I had to stop by and say hello on his behalf...and hear about her research...  
  
And before I knew it I had expressed interest and secured a part time research position.  
  
I know good chemistry can't really be done on 20 hours a week, but it's all I can offer for now. I dread meeting Hannah tomorrow. I only hope she does not deny me this. I was considerate enough to tell Genevieve that I could not start until May 19, after all my current obligations are over with...giving Hannah time to cancel the other engagements.  
  
I just had no idea what was happening! We were just talking, and I was just so excited about it all, and then suddenly Genevieve offered, and I accepted before I could think!  
  
I called Lilly today and told her of the development and she laughed. I didn't appreciate her lack of support and told her so, but she simply replied that I ought to invest my time in projects that I thought interesting and worthy and that she was happy for me.  
  
I'm still in shock over the whole episode, but it is a happy shock.  
  
The experience will, I suppose, be quite useless to me. But I will enjoy it.  
  
And at least the people of Genovia can brag that their princess is quite good at inorganic chemistry!  
  
Small consolation. WHAT AM I DOING?  
  
blockquote>SCHEDULE FOR PRINCESS AMELIA RENALDO  
  
WEEK MAY 10-16  
  
Sunday, May 10  
  
10:00 – Mass  
  
16:00 – meet with manicurist.  
  
19:30 – dinner and opera with H.R.H. Rene.  
  
Monday, May 11  
  
10:00 – brunch with Spanish ambassador's wife Katarina, sons Armand and Diego, daughter Flora.  
  
11:30 – opening of new gastrointestinal wing at St. Gabriel's Hospital; speech on health care reform (enclosed).  
  
12:30 – lunch with Women Olive Growers' Society; speech on agricultural Marks bill (enclosed).  
  
14:30 – visit St. Jude's Orphanage  
  
19:00 – dinner with Greenpeace representatives, Davis and Green.  
  
21:00 – cocktails with foreign minister and his friends.  
  
Tuesday, May 12  
  
10:00 – groundbreaking of Gerard Thermaud Library.  
  
12:00 – lunch with Parliament Subcommittee on Fine Arts Education.  
  
13:30 – ribbon cutting at Grandeau City Park; speech on City Cleanup Act (enclosed).  
  
14:30 – tea with Countess Greensborough, Rachel.  
  
16:30 – meet with manicurist and stylist.  
  
18:30 – Opening Opera and Ball at Juliana Ferrier Opera House in Serinne. Date: not yet announced.  
  
Wednesday, May 13  
  
11:30 – lunch with American Senator Jonathan Leigh and wife, Hilary. State: California.  
  
14:30 – tea with Contessa Ariana Grimaldi.  
  
16:30 – meet with manicurist and stylist  
  
18:30 – dinner and Philharmonic concert with HRH Philipe, Senator Leigh and wife. Composer: Genovian composer Herlich, history enclosed.  
  
Thursday, May 14  
  
12:00 – Depart for Stockholm, Sweden  
  
17:30 – Ball hosted by HRH King Carl XVI Gustaf and Queen Silvia, daughters Crown Princess Victoria, Madeleine, son Carl Philip  
  
Friday, May 15  
  
10:00 – brunch with HRH Princesses Victoria, Madeleine, and Swedish Businesswomen's Association; speech Genovian economics and trade (enclosed).  
  
14:00 – golf with HRH Madeleine, Lady Katrine Bertilsson, Lady Malin Hanover.  
  
16:30 – meet with manicurist and stylist  
  
18:30 – dinner and concert with HRH Madeleine and Carl Philip.  
  
Saturday, May 16  
  
12:00 – return to Genovia/blockquote>  
  
May 11: My room  
  
Father knows! And he's not going to kill me!  
  
My meeting with Hannah this morning did not go well at all. Upon informing her of the twenty hours a week I'd be spending in lab, I was confronted with a very stern refusal to accommodate my wishes. I was informed that, in fact, my schedule for the next few months was booked to the brim with engagements.  
  
Upon looking at the calendar, I found that more than half of these involved more cutting ribbons, pouring tea, and insipid speeches, and crossed off twenty hours of them per week. I sent her an imperious glare that I'm sure would have sent Moscovitz into a fit of laughter, but was still effective. She meekly submitted, but (stupid cow!) decided to drag Grandmere into the mess!  
  
And so, once I returned from the orphanage today, while taking tea with Grandmere, I was commanded to give up my "hobby" and assume my responsibilities.  
  
Again, I refused. It broke my heart, the way Grandmere was looking at me, but I did not want to waste another moment doing unpleasant, useless things, when I could be learning and enjoying myself elsewhere.  
  
And so, Grandmere decided to summon Father.  
  
He stormed in the room in a frustrated, hurried manner; I'm sure we took him away from something actually important. He'd only gotten back from France this morning. Grandmere quickly informed Father of the current state of affairs and asked for his support in commanding me to assume my duties.  
  
Pouring tea a duty? I still shudder.  
  
I feel like the worst kind of fool for putting Father and Grandmere through this, because she is now, using Lilly's queer little pun "royally pissed off". But I was not going to spend all summer wondering about people who were having more fun than I, leading more enriching and interesting lives! It's my turn!  
  
But then...oh!  
  
Father sided with me! Father sided with me!  
  
He first took me out into another room. He then asked me quietly why I wanted to pursue this project, and I simply fell apart and told him everything, about Professor Austin and the open house, majoring in economics, and about my desire to do MORE than social calls.  
  
I had not known I wanted this when I was choosing what to do this summer, but this was, I quickly found out, exactly what I wanted.  
  
I told him how I had wanted to spend more time with him, more time with Parliament, how I wanted to do things with my time that were more worthwhile, more befitting a future leader.  
  
And he conceded beautifully!  
  
I shall keep my position in Genevieve's lab, AND I shall spend another 15 hours a week at Parliament sessions (I have to retain some social duties to appease Grandmere, but at that point, I was so happy I did not care!)  
  
And then (oh, I'm the luckiest girl alive) he said that he was proud of me for standing up for what I believed in, and that I was showing true maturity.  
  
I was so pleased I had to call Lilly and tell her the news.  
  
Moscovitz picked up the phone.  
  
It'd been more than week since I'd last spoken to him, and I confess, he'd been on my mind more than he had a right to.  
  
So I hung up! Not one word! Just hung up.  
  
Foolish, foolish Amelia!  
  
Now why did I do that?  
  
May 12: Room  
  
Why did I hang up? How embarrassing of me! I know there's no way he can know that it was I who had called.  
  
I'm a silly, foolish creature. Out of one mess, into another.  
  
I'm starting to realize that I'm always going to worry about something. It's rather depressing, but that's that. It's so disgusting.  
  
When I wasn't dwelling on my disgustingness, I was remembering the stupid almost-conversation.  
  
He's my boyfriend. I had a right to talk with him. I pay him $100 a week for that right.  
  
I thought of him today. I thought of the way he smiles with his friends but not with me. I imagine that his ex-girlfriends all had seen him smile before.  
  
It's a nice smile.  
  
However, I thought of this as I was supposed to be giving a speech on the City Cleanup Act.  
  
And the first word that came out of my mouth was "Michael"  
  
I'm such a fool.  
  
I laughed, shook my head and came up with a sad strange excuse of a joke, which I can't even remember (just as well, for I'm pretty sure it sounded strange like "Michael always likes walking in the park" or something).  
  
Now I look like a lovelorn schoolgirl. I don't even want to think about what Moscovitz would say if this ever got back to him.  
  
May 13: Room  
  
Last night's Opera was delightful! As Hannah could not shuffle in another social obligation in the time given, I was able to engage Rene, and we had a fabulous time.  
  
I didn't think of Moscovitz at all!  
  
Rene really is a darling. I did not think I'd be able to get him to come at all; I'd only given him 24 hours' notice.  
  
But that was before I found out that Isabella Santorini was singing.  
  
Rene knew, however, because she's his latest conquest, incorrigible boy!  
  
And so, instead of wasting away the evening dwelling on an unpleasant boy, I was highly amused watching Rene drool over his diva.  
  
Later  
  
I just tried calling Lilly again.  
  
Moscovitz picked up the phone again.  
  
I confess, my heart stumbled and I almost couldn't speak, but I managed to quench the strangeness and smoothly ask for his sister. He said that she was out, and I replied that I'd call back later and hung up.  
  
I should have spoken to him. I had just as much reason to speak with him as with Lilly. More, perhaps, given that he IS my boyfriend.  
  
And yet I was a prize idiot and just...  
  
At some point I'm supposed to talk with him. Ask him how his summer is going. Tell him how my life is going.  
  
But he probably wouldn't care anyhow. Why am I even paying him for this? He's doing absolutely nothing! I should call him right now and tell him so. Or maybe not.  
  
But I want to talk with Lilly! She's my friend!  
  
Maybe I should just wait for Lilly to call.  
  
Or maybe I'll just write her an e-mail.  
  
An e-mail. That's safe.  
  
May 16: Room  
  
I am back from Sweden, and though I was glad to see Madeleine and Carl Philip again, I am more than relieved that I am now FREE from my obligations.  
  
Meeting with Maddy again was a delight, as always. I didn't tell her about Genevieve, though. I didn't tell her about anything, really. And I'm starting to realize it's all right that I don't. Because this isn't important to her and she's not interested in this.  
  
Prior to my leaving for Sweden, I'd shot off the aforementioned e-mail to Lilly informing her of the situation and my awkwardness with her brother, and I requested that she call me when I got back.  
  
And she did so this morning!  
  
Oh the joy of speaking with Lilly again! I told her about Genevieve and my Father's decision and all the wonderfulness I felt, and she was very happy for me.  
  
She also thinks I'm being perfectly ridiculous in being afraid of speaking with her brother.  
  
She told me that she was surprised that we had not already ended it, for had the relationship not been put together as a sham for only a little while? I told her of the great MIT plan and she laughed and told me that I cracked her up. She told me that she could end it for me but I passionately denied her that permission.  
  
That's when she got that suspicious lilt to her voice again. "Amelia, you're not FALLING for my brother, are you?"  
  
I vehemently denied that as well and she laughed. Flustered beyond belief, I tried to mount a case against him, but she denied it all. After fifteen minutes of this, she rung off with a laugh, "I knew it!"  
  
So now I'm stuck with a crazy sister who thinks I'm in love with him.  
  
Maybe I should just end it now. Then we could forego the whole Summer Ball.  
  
But I can't.  
  
May 19: Lab  
  
Why CAN'T I end it? It's been bothering me for the past few days.  
  
I set up a reaction and think of him. I take notes in Parliament and think of him.  
  
I've thought of him more than I've thought of myself this whole summer!  
  
May 24: Lab  
  
Genevieve has teamed me up with Andre, a third-year graduate student who is finishing with his PhD soon, and going to Caltech in the States for a Postdoctoral position. Andre is quite nice and incredibly intelligent; he's answered all my questions with patience and a thoroughness that would rival an encyclopedia.  
  
I've written to Professor Austin, thanking him for this opportunity, and what do you think he said? He informed me that he and Genevieve have been waiting some time to be able to collaborate on a work together on corroles (they're both quite advanced in the topic) and I have presented the perfect opportunity! I am going to take a position in his lab and continue my project once I get back to New York!  
  
It is getting difficult, because I really enjoy being in both lab and Parliament. When I am in lab, I forget about Parliament, and when I'm in session, well, I forget all about lab.  
  
When Father is in town, I attend sessions with him, and he always gives me a copy of the paperwork they are discussing in advance so that I can study it and know what they are talking about. I have been assigned to a subcommittee! On parking meters, but still! I'm on my way!  
  
All this, and still...  
  
Moscovitz is somewhere in Belgium right now. He left New York yesterday.  
  
There is no possible way for me to communicate with him until I see him again when he gets to Genovia on July 14.  
  
That's more than seven weeks away.  
  
Seven weeks.  
  
June 1: London, The Savoy  
  
An enforced break by Father. I've been more than happy, but Father has been extremely pleased with me. So pleased that he's decided to disrupt my work by bringing me to England.  
  
I am not too upset, as I suppose it is nice to get out of the sameness for a bit, but I wish he'd given me more notice; my last experiment is decomposing at my bench as I write this.  
  
I can't get too upset though. It was a few days' of work, and I'll be able to do it again. In the meantime, London IS nice. We've been to the ballet, the opera, and Father claims he has a surprise for me tomorrow.  
  
As I slowly resurface into the world outside of lab and Parliament and parking meters, I wonder where He is now. The last time I spoke with Lilly, he was in Zurich.  
  
I confess, my mind has been occupied as of late, but there is still enough time in the day to wonder about him. If he's safe. How he is. If he likes it where he is. What he thinks of it.  
  
What he thinks of me, if he thinks of me at all.  
  
Why he hasn't called me to check in.  
  
Careless bloke. $100 a week for nothing.  
  
Why can't I break it off?  
  
June 2: London, The Savoy  
  
Helen is here! Father took me to an art show, but he didn't tell me that it was HELEN'S!!!!!!!  
  
It was beautiful and lovely! Her work was gorgeous, smashing, sexy, sensational! And I was spectacularly happy. I was so proud of her.  
  
I had no idea how much I missed her! To be sure, I'd called her occasionally to see how she was and find out how everything was going, but she'd never mentioned this show!  
  
After the show, which was a brilliant success, we went out for a late supper to celebrate: Helen, me, Franklin (who had also come) and Father! And even later, even though Helen and Franklin have their own room at the Savoy (courtesy of Father) she came to my room, and we watched a Baywatch rerun!  
  
Anyhow, she's collapsed in tiredness on the other bed right now. We are going to the spa together tomorrow to relax for a bit.  
  
Oh...I'm so happy!  
  
June 14: Parliament  
  
The Gagne Bill is being intensely debated these days and I have been riveted to my seat. It's Thursday, and I'm still here. I feel guilty, but I've ducked out of my responsibilities here before in the name of science. It's only right to take the time back.  
  
Lilly would love watching this all. She'd no doubt be able to concentrate down all the jargon to the ideas and the key points, and deliver more analysis of the debates. It's a pity she's missing this and I called her last night to tell her so, to which she sulked her reply, "It's too bad I'm not the Princess of Genovia."  
  
Yes, I know it was stupid to make her jealous, but I just wanted her to know I was thinking of her!  
  
I miss Lilly. I miss visiting her and I miss wasting away evenings with her in front of the TV. I miss her parents. Even if they were paid to talk with me, they are just really nice, smart people.  
  
As for her brother, well, I haven't missed him yet, but I do think obsessively of him. I wonder what he'd think of my dilemmas this summer. If he would have been supportive.  
  
I cannot believe we've been dating for so long, and we know so little of each other. I suppose I never thought to really learn about his life, his friends, or anything really. He's currently somewhere in the middle of Europe, and quite frankly, I don't really care where he is.  
  
Concentrate, Amelia, concentrate! I'm in Parliament! Discussing the Gagne Bill! This is important!  
  
HE is not. Not right now, at least. I will simply put him out of my mind and deal with him when he arrives.  
  
One month. 


	10. Part 10

June 17: Lab  
  
Grandmere is getting on my nerves!  
  
Even though it is obvious that I have a boyfriend, and I have mentioned him to her on more than a few occasions (more, recently, as she's become even more frustrating about it) she has taken it into her head she must set me up.  
  
And on those numerous occasions when I mention him to her and remind her that I am perfectly happy in my own relationship, she just...  
  
It's as if she's seen through me completely. It's as if she knows I'm just holding on to him until he's unnecessary.  
  
And it makes me feel horrible.  
  
Yesterday night, Lord and Lady Delacroix and their eligible, handsome son Henri dined with us. At Grandmere's invitation.  
  
I am proud to say that even IF I'm keeping up a pretense with Moscovitz I was quite faithful to him. Henri was handsome, charming, and actually quite a wonderful person to be around.  
  
But I did not feel one bit of attraction for him. In fact, when Henri smiled his beautiful perfect grin, I thought of Moscovitz's smile. Not the sarcastic one he usually gives me, or the amused one he gives the cameras when we're together, but the lopsided one that shows that dimple. I hate it because it makes me feel stupid. And I also hate it because....  
  
It makes him look quite handsome really. Adorable. Dare I even say sexy.  
  
And I mused on my boyfriend's adorable smile and even his other ones...and completely lost track of the conversation.  
  
And so, I inadvertently agreed that I loved golf when I hate the horrid sport. I was almost trapped into a golf date but I managed to regain my senses at that point.  
  
I send this grievance directly onto Moscovitz's head for having too many smiles.  
  
June 19: Home  
  
I called Lilly tonight, after my dinner with Baron Andover, his wife, and his son (also eligible, surprise surprise) Gregory.  
  
Gregory is also studying in America at Stanford. As we happened to both be in the States, there was a great deal of ridiculous carrying on about how we ought to get together for lunch. Do they forget that the States are hardly the size of Genovia?  
  
Gregory studies economics. When he discovered I was also an economics major, he started spewing all these theories and papers that I had read and studied months ago (and promptly forgot) and so I spent the rest of the evening feeling ashamed at myself for not knowing half the things he does even though he is the same year as I am.  
  
And so, while I nodded at appropriate intervals and provided inane generic remarks to his enthusiastic monologue, my mind wandered again.  
  
First I wondered what the hell I was doing in economics.  
  
After finding that this question was not exactly a comfortable topic, I shifted onto my boyfriend. Also not a comfortable topic, I suppose, but...well.  
  
Having chosen to go to MIT for computer science, I surmised that he probably majored in computer science at Columbia. But sometimes I'd see him studying a French text or two. Was he also learning French for the humanities requirement? Did he major in anything else?  
  
He seemed the type to. But not overachieving. It'd probably be some random major, like...history. So I thought about that for a while.  
  
Why do I keep on thinking of him?  
  
June 23: Home  
  
I wish Grandmere would stop setting me up with people.  
  
It makes me think of him too often. In fact, I'd venture to say that even though she set me up with the goal in mind to distract me from my current boyfriend, she's actually succeeded in doing the opposite: only around these...these TOOLS, do I actually think of him.  
  
One will be shorter than him.  
  
Another too blonde compared to him.  
  
Another too stupid.  
  
Another too talkative.  
  
They're just...not him.  
  
And it's disturbing! I did not think of him THIS often before, but now it's happening NIGHT AFTER NIGHT, the minute my prospective suitor and I shake hands.  
  
Maybe it's a girlfriend thing.  
  
I think I'll start working my evenings in lab. I'm getting sick of this.  
  
June 25: Lab  
  
I wish Lilly were here already. It's so lonely here.  
  
June 26: Lab  
  
Weakness!  
  
I know I don't have any peers here; I've never had other people my age here before. So I don't know what the big deal is.  
  
I've spent summers at home before from boarding school, so I don't understand what the big deal is.  
  
But I miss Lilly. I am having a dreadful time with a product that JUST WON'T BE PURE!!!!!!!! (stupid stupid stupid!!!) and I just think that if Lilly were around I could just...eat ice cream with her for a while and have her tell me that things will be all right.  
  
But instead, I just hang around the kitchens, moping into pints of rocky road by myself.  
  
June 28: Home  
  
I'm going back to New York for the Fourth of July!!!!!!!!!  
  
I'm going to see Lilly!!!!!!!  
  
I called her yesterday just to see how she was and she TOLD me that she MISSED ME!!!!!!!!  
  
And so now I'm going back to New York, not only to visit Helen, but to also see Lilly!!!!!  
  
And afterwards, what do you think? She's going to return to Genovia with me!  
  
I've told Genevieve that I can't be in lab for three weeks starting the First of July, with my trip to America and Lilly and the Moscovitzs and the Summer Ball. I felt really guilty, but really, my project was getting nowhere and I just want a break from it for a little bit. Andre told me not to get impatient and that the distance would help me gain some perspective on how to approach the purification next.  
  
With all this to look forward to, I don't even mind that I have another two setups (care of Grandmere) to deal with!  
  
July 2: New York! Helen's!  
  
We're just taking a break from a gorge fest and chick flicks. Helen's making smoothies, and Lilly is calling her parents.  
  
Oh, it's wonderful to be back! I know I love Genovia, and it's home, but really, there's no Fat Louie or Helen or Lilly there and it gets so lonely even if I do have Grandmere and Andrea and Genevieve. I always feel like I'm...at a job while I'm there.  
  
It's relaxing to be here. The minute I got off the plane and saw Lilly and Helen and Franklin there waiting for me I just completely forgot about all the painful stresses of Genovia: the subcommittee meetings for Parliament, the purification, the suitors.  
  
Lilly had a laugh when I described my suitors to her. It felt awkward at first, telling her that Grandmere was not pleased with my choice of boyfriend, who is, after all, her brother. Helen had quite an angry expression on her face, but kept quiet at that part.  
  
They both sympathized with me through my stories, after which Lilly concluded that Michael was obviously the one for me being neither too tall, too short, too round, too thin, too geeky, too slick, too talkative, too taciturn, too stupid, too smart, too social, nor too shy.  
  
I'm starting to realize that Lilly's really hoping that this works out between me and her brother...that our staying together this long (apparently longer than any relationship her brother has had before) indicates some potential, despite our inauspicious beginning.  
  
And I don't have the heart tell her otherwise.  
  
Oooh! Smoothies are ready!  
  
July 3: Helen's  
  
Helen cornered me today and made me feel very uncomfortable. I know she didn't mean to and I know she doesn't know how...in fact, I highly doubt she even knows that she's MADE me uncomfortable.  
  
She told me today to follow my heart and not to let Grandmere dictate who I should and should not, can or cannot date. That suitability in a Prince Consort is a trait that only I can determine.  
  
Which is a lie, of course. I can't just marry anyone.  
  
But that wasn't what made me uncomfortable.  
  
She told me that Moscovitz's suitability is not as important as my feelings, and that if I love him, then I ought to stick up for him.  
  
And this bothered me on more than a few levels:  
  
1) She didn't know the truth about me and Moscovitz. If she did, maybe she wouldn't have felt this bad about what Grandmere was doing. After all, we aren't a really couple and while I like to present ourselves as one to everyone, I thought that at least Helen knew that Moscovitz was only hanging around until it was "safe" for us to break up.  
  
2) Did she feel this way because of Father? Did she want to marry him? What if she had? What would my life be now? Would I ever have gone to New York? And what about Franklin? Oh god, what if she is still in love with Father?  
  
3) What if I do make that mistake and fall for someone completely unsuitable to be a Prince Consort? What if I do have to make that choice? I've already had to make my first difficult decision, in choosing my major, but when it comes down to...I just hope I never fall in love.  
  
4) I know Moscovitz COULD dress better, act more courteous, and just be altogether more pleasant, but what makes him unsuitable anyhow? It's not as if he's a stupid bum who doesn't understand how a country works. In fact, he's quite intelligent, more intelligent than half the men Grandmere has set me up with.  
  
The Helen concern has me the most worried.  
  
July 4: Helen's...rooftop  
  
It's been an exhausting day with tons of barbecue and heat. Helen, Franklin and I are lazing away on the rooftop, waiting for the sun to go down so that the fireworks can start.  
  
I love fireworks.  
  
Today was an...enlightening, tiring day.  
  
As Helen and I were preparing a salad, I finally caved and told her that what she said about the Consort and suitability distressed me, and I told her my worries about her and my Father.  
  
She laughed and informed me that while the suitability was an issue, it was not the reason why she and Father decided NOT to get married; it was because they simply didn't want to.  
  
They loved, but were not in love.  
  
That immediately made me feel better...and in many ways, I am better by a lot.  
  
I was conceived in love. My parents DO love each other.  
  
And while they were not IN love, that doesn't make much of a difference to me: I'm not asking for a mended family...but rather...a loving one. And I have one.  
  
And so now, as I'm waiting for the fireworks, writing by the light of the sunset and candles that Helen's brought out ("You'll ruin your eyes if you write in the dark" she told me), I can't help but...celebrate. Helen loves Father, but she's in love with Franklin. And they're happy, sitting by each other in the darkness in silence.  
  
And while this would not have made sense to me when I first moved to New York, it does now.  
  
What makes the difference between then and now?  
  
July 5: Lilly's  
  
My heart is beating so loudly right now I'm sure that Genovians can hear it across the ocean.  
  
And I can't explain why.  
  
I got to the Moscovitz's this morning to get Lilly for shopping. As soon as the door opened, Lilly smiled. She was on the phone, and said, "Wait, here's Mia..."  
  
She must have heard Helen calling me that a few days ago. I had no time to decide whether or not I liked it because she shoved the phone into my hand.  
  
OH GOD.  
  
What followed: (including my thoughts)  
  
Me: Hello?  
  
MOSCOVITZ!!!!!: Hello? Mia?  
  
Me: (swallow) Yes?  
  
Moscovitz: Who's Mia?  
  
Me: Um...it's me, Amelia. Your Girlfriend, the Princess of Genovia. Lilly's taken to calling me Mia now.  
  
(STUPID! Of course he knows you're his girlfriend!)  
  
Moscovitz: Oh...well...hello Mia.  
  
(Oh NO. I can see the way he's smiling...it's the lopsided one, and my heart picks up now...it doesn't stop beating this hard or fast until...well until now, as I'm writing and reliving this...)  
  
Me: Um...yeah. So how's Europe? Where are you now?  
  
Moscovitz: Portugal. It's been pretty good. Lots of fun. Different people. You know, Europe.  
  
(I HATE him.)  
  
Me: Well, that's nice.  
  
Moscovitz: So you're back in New York?  
  
Me: Yeah...I missed Lilly and Helen. And I wanted to be around for the True American Holiday.  
  
Moscovitz: Neat.  
  
(Yeah right.)  
  
Moscovtiz: Look I gotta go.  
  
Me: Oh should I get your parents or Lilly?  
  
Moscovitz: Nah. Talked with them already.  
  
Me: So I'll see you in nine days?  
  
(He's grinning again, I know he is! Nine days? Good one, Amelia.)  
  
Moscovitz: If I didn't know any better, Your Highness, I'd think you miss me.  
  
Me: Like I miss calculus, I assure you.  
  
(At least a riposte!)  
  
Moscovitz: In nine days, then.  
  
Me: Yeah, whatever.  
  
(Yeah, whatever?!?!?)  
  
So now, well, I can't really kill Lilly, even though I want to, because now I know I'd miss her if she died.  
  
But I very much want to...kick something.  
  
July 7: Plane en route to Genovia  
  
It's still on my mind. Of course it is.  
  
It was the first time I'd spoken with him since...his graduation, when I said congratulations and left.  
  
I know I'm going to see him again. It's going to happen in a week.  
  
Gah! Lilly's looking over my sh-  
  
July 8: Home in Genovia  
  
Lilly was trying to read over my shoulder.  
  
She should respect my privacy, but she said she saw her name and the word "kill" which naturally piqued her curiosity.  
  
So now I only have six days. It's not like I'm looking forward to it or anything. Just...get it over with.  
  
I set up a schedule with Hannah today detailing what was to happen when Moscovitz arrived. We have a number of appearances here and there and of course I have to take him around and we have to look happy together.  
  
Lilly's to come around with us, but...well...  
  
I suppose we're going to have to go out for a date or something. On our own. Once or twice. After all, we've been going out for a little over four months and we've been away from each other for a little over one...of course we're going to have missed each other...all that absence makes the heart grow fonder stuff.  
  
So...I'm just going to have to get used to it. Get used to seeing him. And stop acting all weird around him. I've been magnificently indifferent with him before. I can do so again. Nothing's changed. It's just that I haven't seen him in a while.  
  
But that's it. It's not like I'm in love with him or anything.  
  
July 10: Home  
  
Exhausting. Simply exhausting. Lilly and I have driven all over Genovia in the past few days...and it's been great!  
  
I've shown her my favorite vantage point of the sunset, I've taken her horseback riding, I've taken her to the Parliamentary buildings, and I've even brought her by the lab and introduced her to Genevieve, Andre and my labmates.  
  
She realizes that she's going to have to see a lot of these sights again when her family arrives in a few days, but doesn't mind. She loves it, and she's been asking me all sorts of odd questions, about how I spent my childhood, and my favorite teachers and subjects at the Academie, where I brought her today.  
  
It's a refreshing, different perspective. I feel exciting and mysterious and quite interesting!  
  
I was explaining my project to her today when I realized a way out for my purification!!!!!!!!! I told Andre, and he was so happy for me and told me that really, it was only the distance that I needed!  
  
Tonight, even though Grandmere had guests planned for tonight (and yes, a suitor), Lilly made it a lot more fun. Paul was actually a pretty sweet person (too sweet for my tastes) and Lilly's presence took the pressure off of me to keep him completely enthralled and entertained, so that I had more time to decide whether sweetness was an attribute desirable in a Consort. (I concluded that while it had its merits, it's just not my style. I prefer a stronger, more confident type.  
  
July 12: Home  
  
He called today.  
  
Here!  
  
I was in the middle of tea with the Duchess Bridgerton, her cousin Lady Kent, and Lilly when Hannah came into the room.  
  
She doesn't normally interrupt my schedule and she looked a bit confused. Appropriately so, I suppose, now that I've realized that she's never met or talked to my boyfriend, and before a week ago never heard me speak of him.  
  
So after her confused message that Michael Moscovitz was on the phone for me, I left the room to take the call in another room.  
  
Our conversation:  
  
Me: Yes, this is Amelia. Hello?  
  
Moscovitz: Hello?  
  
Me: Yes, Michael.  
  
Moscovitz: Look, there's been a strike here in Italy. It's going to take me a bit longer to get to Genovia than I thought.  
  
Silence.  
  
Me: Oh?  
  
Moscovitz: Yeah. So uh...don't wait up.  
  
Me: Should I do something? Where exactly are you now? I suppose I could send someone...  
  
Moscovitz: Nah, Princess. This is part of the fun. I'll figure something out.  
  
Me: Um...ok. Then I'll see you when I see you?  
  
Moscovitz: Sure thing. Later, Princess.  
  
Me: Um...maybe you shouldn't call me that.  
  
Moscovitz: Hm?  
  
Me: Well, I mean, once you get here. If you call me that in that sarcastic way you do, well, it'll be a little...anyway. Just...don't call me that.  
  
Moscovitz: Sure. Later...Mia.  
  
I KNOW he was smiling that annoying lopsided grin at the end, just as he was calling me Mia.  
  
It makes me hate being called Mia.  
  
I mean, I'm just getting used to Helen's calling me Mia. Lilly's own obsession with the name, well, I suppose I can get used to that.  
  
But now it'll become one of those strange details that everyone remembers. The say way they'll remember Di or Wills. I'll be Princess Mia.  
  
But he'd already hung up, so I have no choice.  
  
So now my boyfriend stuck somewhere in Italy, and rather than taking the obvious solution...you know, asking his girlfriend, the princess of a neighboring country, to help out, he's shrugged off my assistance.  
  
Ingrate!  
  
July 13: Home  
  
Just how does he plan on getting here? And when?  
  
He didn't even say where in Italy he was.  
  
I thought of him today. I worried.  
  
I mean, he's twenty-three years old, so I'm sure he knows how to handle himself. But, well, I'm a Princess. I can easily take care of those details. And I have connections.  
  
He's just doing this to be difficult. You know, I bet he's drunk on some streetcorner somewhere and doesn't care whether or not he ever arrives in Genovia.  
  
So forget him. Let him get drunk and avoid responsibilities. Forget the whales that need my money.  
  
July 14: Home  
  
He was supposed to arrive today. This morning. I was supposed to help him get situated, and take him around the palace and introduce him to the staff and show him the grounds.  
  
There's a small dinner party tonight to welcome him. I invited the prime minister, the American Embassy and Consulate (yes, the entirety) a handful of cabinet members, Rene, and one or two nobility. I agonized over the guest list.  
  
And he's not here to appreciate my efforts.  
  
So tonight I'm just going to have to stand there stupidly and explain that my boyfriend refused my assistance (I've decided to charmingly smile and call it his "admirable sense of American Independence").  
  
I could not very well cancel...I mean, our lives shouldn't and don't revolve around him.  
  
It's stormy outside, and I have to say it suits my mood. Hannah tried to send me out on a last minute hospital visit but I'd much rather hide in the palace and pout.  
  
Lilly's somewhere about, but I don't care.  
  
I just...I'm frustrated.  
  
Later  
  
Oh GOD.  
  
This is absolutely terrible.  
  
I'm in love.  
  
With MOSCOVITZ. 


	11. Part 11

July 15: Home  
  
I'm calmer now. Well, at least as calm as a woman who's just found to her mortification that she's fallen in love can be.  
  
He's here now. He got here last night.  
  
That's when I found out that I was in love with him. Well not when I found out he got here, but rather, when I saw him.  
  
We'd just finished dinner and we were moving into the Red room for coffee and dessert when Jens, the security director, came in and spoke quietly with Lars, who, in turn, signaled to me that I was needed.  
  
And so I excused myself and met the two men outside.  
  
It turns out he arrived on the back of a farmer's truck tonight. Just walked up to the gate and politely asked for entrance. His identification was cleared but they wanted me to meet with him first.  
  
Something in Jens's expression made it apparent that it was mandatory I saw him first.  
  
They were keeping him at the gatehouse as if he were a criminal. I was about to say something when I saw him.  
  
Oh GOD.  
  
He was soaked to the bone from the storm outside, and his clothes were dirty. He looked worn to the marrow without sleep. I would not have recognized him if it weren't for the smile.  
  
The lopsided one.  
  
"Looking good, Princess."  
  
And that's when I fell in love with him.  
  
It was wretched. I couldn't say anything. He just looked so...terrible...terrible and frustratingly beautiful, even with his hair going every which way (in my opinion, also in need of a trim), his clothes disheveled and dirty, and himself in dire need of a shave, shower and slumber.  
  
How does this all make sense? I'd been presented with the most handsome of men in the last few months. They were pressed to perfection, not a hair was out of place.  
  
And I choose to fall for the hooligan who came off the back of a farmer's truck.  
  
It smelled like it too.  
  
The odor brought me back. "Um, hello Michael. Welcome to Genovia," I said huskily. I just...couldn't get the words out normally or condescendingly. My heart was not even in any of the insults that came to mind...because he was absolutely horribly beautiful to me.  
  
I brought him into the palace from the rear entrance, forgoing introductions to my family and our guests.  
  
Looking at his scant baggage (one thoroughly soaked backpack), I wondered if he even brought anything suitable for tonight's dinner or even had dry clothing. I managed to stamp the stupid nervousness out of my voice as I asked him.  
  
He laughed and said, "My rich people clothes are coming with my parents. All I have is in there."  
  
So...no.  
  
So while I ordered him to take a shower and get warm, I arranged for Rene to join me in the hall, where I asked him to lend Moscovitz some clothes.  
  
And I promptly dumped my boyfriend on HIM instead.  
  
I was mortified. I did not want to see Moscovitz for the rest of the evening. So I gave Rene instructions to entertain Moscovitz for a bit after he got out of the shower, and arranged for his dinner to be taken up to his rooms.  
  
I was not going to bring him out to meet everyone. He needed rest!  
  
And so now, it's not even sunrise and I know I have to see him today, and I have no idea what's going to happen.  
  
And I'm in love with him, which makes it all worse.  
  
Later: Home  
  
When clean, he's irresistible. Especially in Rene's stylish clothing.  
  
Oh I'm toast.  
  
Even later: Home  
  
Falling in love with Moscovitz was the worst possible thing that could have happened.  
  
I know he's smart and occasionally polite, but he's hardly Consort material. I've struggled with this continual definition of "Consort material" but I just know deep in my mind, in my royal BEING, that he's just not it.  
  
But when he smiles any one of his smiles, it makes my heart tumble. And in the air, there is a lovely delicate sigh that I'd never heard before.  
  
How can anyone think that being in love feels good? It's pure torture.  
  
I brought him around to the American Embassy and Consulate today and introduced him. We had a private dinner tonight with my family, well, the Genovian ones.  
  
Grandmere, as expected, hates him.  
  
What am I doing?  
  
July 16: Home  
  
Lilly was totally surprised that I remembered her birthday!!!!!  
  
It was great! After a rather uneventful morning of the usual engagments and brunch, Boris came to the palace this afternoon (He and I arranged for him to stop in Genovia for the Summer Ball during his European tour) and she was extremely pleased and surprised.  
  
We took off for an afternoon on horseback, went into Italy this evening for dinner, and followed it up with gelato and a private tour of one of the art museums she'd expressed interest in to me a while back.  
  
It was just so nice to be there, the four of us (well, five, including Lars). There was just...there was just so much contentment and peace in the air. While Moscovitz WAS there, I did not have to overexert myself with strangers or make anybody comfortable.  
  
I liked it.  
  
Well, most of it. Because despite the nice day, and it being Lilly's birthday, I'm still in agonies over her brother.  
  
I've just...I can't be around him. It's too hard. Every moment I...  
  
I'm going crazy.  
  
I was in love with Roddy, wasn't I? All the things I felt for Roddy, all the things he made me feel around him were wonderful. Roddy made me feel wonderful.  
  
But my feelings for Moscovitz. He makes me feel...absolutely horrible. I can't look at him without feeling wretched and I can't even explain why.  
  
Maybe it's because I know we can't be together.  
  
It IS pretty terrible that we can't.  
  
I've been trying to have more conversation with him, but it's not worked out. We haven't had time. I'm always introducing him to someone or other.  
  
He puts people at ease, and he just...if it weren't for the lowness of his position, I do believe we'd be suited. He does not have grace, but he has...he has charisma.  
  
I am happiest and unhappiest when I am with him.  
  
The visits, the openings, the teas, they're not tedious with him around. He is charming and attentive and I can pretend that we can be like this forever when I know that we can't.  
  
Lilly's noticed a change in me and has remarked on it; she cornered me this evening and asked me if there was anything wrong. I made up some silly story about how there's just so much to do and I got stressed out (as if a princess ever gets nervous about her social obligations!)  
  
I'll just wait until he gets to MIT. And then I'll end it. And forget him.  
  
But for now, I'll just enjoy and hate the moment.  
  
July 17: Home  
  
We went to the airport this morning to pick up his family, Helen and Franklin.  
  
With all that's said and done, even if I am paying Moscovitz to be my boyfriend, this has to be one of the most important days for the Princess of Genovia. After all, a relationship is deemed extremely important when the families meet each other.  
  
Although the Summer Ball is a tradition that has existed from the time when the first Renaldo assumed the throne a little over a century and half ago, this feels like my very first one. Or at least, the first important one.  
  
Michael will be there, his family, my family...all of it. And I dearly hope it all goes well.  
  
Today, between last-minute arrangements for the ball, which is in two nights, I brought Helen, Franklin, and the Moscovitz family (plus Boris) around Genovia on a tour of my "favorite places" whatnot.  
  
And, well, I was just so HAPPY.  
  
Moscovitz held my hand today, and I just...shimmered.  
  
His family, oh I love them. Of course it's just a bonus that Lilly's his sister, but even though his parents do pick my brain apart, well, they're smart, witty people. And I enjoy being around them. I am comfortable.  
  
Because Lilly is fascinated with my life at the ESSG, she told her parents about it.  
  
Motivated by either friendly curiosity for their daughter's friend (and son's girlfriend) or by their continual scientific fascination with my strange unsettled mind, they asked to be brought to the ESSG to see my work.  
  
It was awkward for me to do so. I mean, I don't want too many people to know about my life at the ESSG. I don't want people to know about my problems with assimilating to the lifestyle that I was born into. I don't really want anyone to know about this strange un-princesslike obsession.  
  
Most importantly, well, I just don't want anyone in my Princess life to meet anyone in my labrat life. They're entirely different and I had always hoped to keep the ESSG as...a haven.  
  
My labmates, though they know I am royalty, have really taken me into their group, shown me all sorts of protocols and procedures, as well as given me tons of support. With them, I'm simply Amelia, whose project on corroles is coming along nicely, but not without hitches. And I do enjoy this lifestyle. I'm not a Princess; I'm an undergrad in the lab. And it's nice.  
  
But, well, Helen and Franklin were just so proud and the Moscovitzs were just so very pleased that I found a creative outlet for myself (if one should call it that).  
  
And, of course, Moscovitz. I don't know. I guess I wanted him to know about the ESSG. That I wasn't just the Princess with the social obligations. That I was more. That I was smart and that I was talented in something. That I was special.  
  
I'm not sure what he got out of the visit because he remained silent the whole time.  
  
Andre took entirely too much delight in meeting my family, and especially Michael. His laughing expression promised me that I will return to much teasing about my boyfriend.  
  
The Doctors Moscovitz, I know, were extremely fascinated with this other side of me, but I didn't allow us to stay long enough for them to probe any more.  
  
I have a feeling that I shall return to much analysis once I get back to New York.  
  
But never mind that.  
  
It's been nice to have the Moscovitzs around. Everything in the palace feels a bit more exciting with them. It's the pleasure that comes with having guests you truly care about visit.  
  
Dinner tonight was surprisingly delightful. Father already loves the Moscovitz family, or their support when he found out he could no longer have children. Grandmere had to respect them for that, so she held her royal tongue.  
  
All in all, everybody was on their best behavior, and it still went well!  
  
Tomorrow other guests from all over the world will be arriving and we'll lose our privacy.  
  
Just as well, I suppose. Too much time with them wouldn't be good.  
  
July 18: Home  
  
Why aren't the flowers here yet?  
  
I knew Grandmere should not have gotten that temperamental chef from Paris. He's fabulous, I know, but just...not reliable.  
  
Why can't I spend more time with everyone?  
  
Why does everyone else get to have fun?  
  
Later: Home  
  
I know I sounded quite childish and churlish. Really, I shouldn't complain. I've never had problems handling all these details before.  
  
Very unprincess-like of me to take up a fit now.  
  
But, well, Lilly's around and she won't be soon and I'll have to spend the rest of the summer without her.  
  
I welcomed the respite from Moscovitz, though.  
  
Having so many guests has allowed for more distance between him and myself. I mean, I'm glad he's here. Better here than in the middle of Bulgaria or Latvia. But still, I just...  
  
Well, the less I see of him the better.  
  
That being said, I still can't wait until tonight; we are going out on a date.  
  
For appearance's sake. After all, it'd be odd for a couple not to want time to themselves.  
  
Even Later: Home  
  
He was so handsome tonight. I was surprised to find out that the clothes he wore tonight were actually his own. I've seen him in black tie, T- shirts and jeans, and without a shirt on, but I thought that was about it.  
  
We weren't doing anything fancy. Just dinner. But he looked adorable.  
  
I don't want to dwell on clothes, but...  
  
He wore a button-down and khakis!!!!! For me!!!!  
  
(small triumphs, I suppose. The next move would be to see if he'll wear that sweater I bought him for Christmas last year...though I did buy it for him out of lack of creativity, I really do believe it would look good on him)  
  
I realized as I was getting ready tonight that this was actually our first real date. One where we didn't have buffers...well save Lars. No charity ball, no gala, no art show opening.  
  
Our first real date. Pitiful, I know. We've been going out for almost five months now. And I was nervous to no end.  
  
I'm embarrassed to admit that I spent an hour debating what to wear. I'm glad that I keep a journal, because at least I don't have to ACTUALLY admit it to anyone...just write it down.  
  
But the dilemma was quite...well...I didn't want to be overdressed and I didn't want to be underdressed. I usually know exactly what to wear. I've NEVER spent an hour wondering what to wear. I even tried on and took off at least four outfits before I decided on a cotton summer dress and Italian heels.  
  
But in the end I looked nice enough.  
  
We met at the front door and he was sweet enough to have flowers (lilies) for me (though I suspect he wouldn't have had them if we hadn't had BOTH OUR FAMILIES watching us, seeing us off, but I suppose I can pretend).  
  
Lars was nice enough to drive behind us in a separate car. We took the Porsche tonight.  
  
I'm still confused as to how it went, so I'll just write down what we did first. We went to a restaurant in Genovia proper, not one of the elegant classy ones, but one of my favorites that serves wonderful French cuisine, Amaury's. Then we went for a walk around the city, and ended up sitting for an outdoor performance of "As You Like It" in Renaldo Park. We got dessert at Francine's and then came home.  
  
Now, as to how I felt...  
  
It wasn't a comfortable evening. Well, it was, kind of, but not quite. But it ended better than it started.  
  
He's just not a good boyfriend. I was happy to be there with him, but he's not.  
  
Well, I guess he would have behaved differently had he known that I was in love with him.  
  
As it was, well, during dinner he made polite conversation and we talked about Genovia, many of the stops on his European tour, his own impending move to Boston...but...there wasn't anything personal in the conversation.  
  
And I tried to tease him into telling me things, but he'd just smile that lopsided smile of his and just...just leave it at that.  
  
I told him a few insipid things here and there, but, well, if he wasn't going to share anything, I certainly wasn't!  
  
And despite all the discomfort of dinner, I just couldn't help still being in love with him and enjoying his arm in mine while we talked through the city. When we passed a sign for "As You Like It" and he decided we ought to sit down for it. I warned him that it would be translated into French, but he laughed and said it was all right.  
  
I thought it odd, but I figured he either knew the play well or just was enjoying the atmosphere.  
  
That's when the evening got better.  
  
It was a magical play and, while not in its brilliant original English, fairly well-translated. I just laughed and laughed, and he was laughing with me.  
  
He knows French.  
  
And that discovery delighted me.  
  
For a second, I almost believed we were just any happy Genovian couple.  
  
When the play ended, we were in intense debate over our reactions to the interpretations of Rosalind and Orlando, so we went to get mousse and spent the rest of the evening in intense conversation over "As You Like It", Shakespeare and other playwrights.  
  
He prefers the Russians. I prefer Wilde.  
  
We just had so much to talk about there.  
  
Every once in a while, Grandmere is able to find a suitor for me who is able to converse on interesting topics and is well-read and intelligent. He usually has something else wrong with him, but those are still the most enjoyable of her setups, even if they don't amount to anything.  
  
But there was nothing wrong with Moscovitz. Well other than the fact that he's completely unsuited the role of Consort. But I was already in love with him, so I just found myself falling even more in love with him.  
  
Poor Francine, wanting to close with us two sitting and talking! Finally we took the hint and got back to the Palace.  
  
As he said goodnight, I found myself wanting him to kiss me.  
  
We've never kissed. I was never interested in doing so. Well, I wasn't in love with him before.  
  
But I wasn't going to tell him he could kiss me. That would have sounded odd. So instead, I simply shook hands with him, let him kiss my hand (as he always does) and turned away from him and went up here.  
  
I can still feel where he kissed my hand. It felt different to me. Different from the other times.  
  
I wish I could go out on another date with him.  
  
Well, I could. After all, we're dating. I have every right to demand a date.  
  
But what will that do?  
  
I can only imagine my infatuation with him would get worse. And that would only serve to torture me more when I broke it off out of necessity.  
  
I confess. I do like him.  
  
July 19: Home  
  
Another golden day for my records, I suppose.  
  
I was still caught up in arrangements in the morning, but my afternoon erased all memory of the morning.  
  
We went for a walk together.  
  
Rather, we ran into each other (well, to be quite honest...oh I feel ashamed for confessing this...Lilly told me he was out walking and I joined him) and decided to continue on together.  
  
It's not as if it was a romantic experience or anything. There were no confessions or passions revealed. But I appreciated his conversation. And that was nice.  
  
I just liked being around him.  
  
We got back in the late afternoon and separated.  
  
The Summer Ball will commence in two hours. It will start with a large state dinner, and be followed with dancing.  
  
Michael will sit at the front table with me.  
  
I am nervous.  
  
Two hours. I'm supposed to sit still while I am styled and coiffed and made up. And all I can think about is getting out of this all and...running away.  
  
I just can't believe what's happening. There's too much going on right now, and I just feel like my emotions are being pulled in many directions...and yet my thoughts remain on one person.  
  
This is NOT the time to fall in love. There is WAY TOO MUCH to do.  
  
I shouldn't have fallen in love.  
  
Later: Homer  
  
Why do I keep on thinking about him?  
  
It was made glaringly obvious tonight that he does not belong.  
  
Despite his charisma, his wit, his...overall Michaelness, it is that very quality which disqualifies him.  
  
He is too snide and has no respect for the true high class. I saw it in his eyes when he bowed to our guests. While he conversed with them politely, I just KNEW he was laughing at them inside. And while they didn't know, I did.  
  
I myself cannot confess to loving my guests, but at least I remain indifferent.  
  
During our opening waltz, I told him so, and he laughed, "Dear Mia, I'm afraid that I lack the superior brain functions to appreciate higher living...and its tenants."  
  
I did not know how to respond to that. At one point, I suppose I thought that was true, but he appreciates a fine red wine as much as any duke does, and he can ride a horse like a champion polo player. And he can dance like a Prince.  
  
I suppose I always knew he held me and my class in contempt. But I had thought things had changed...  
  
Well it doesn't matter to me what he thinks, because I can't like him. And his insolence and crassness only goes to show that we could NEVER be.  
  
But what does it mean to appreciate higher living? Doesn't everyone want to have a nice, comfortable life?  
  
Well I wasn't about to let him disrupt my enjoyment of the evening.  
  
So I ignored him (well, as politely as I could) for the rest of the ball. It wasn't as if everybody thought we were in relationship trouble...it was more like I allowed my social obligations to keep me away from him.  
  
It hurt, because I know I won't see him for much longer, but really, I had duties and I could not be troubled with feelings and...him at that moment.  
  
Even now, I don't want to think of him. He just makes me feel extremely agitated.  
  
But he's on my mind.  
  
I shouldn't have ignored him and tossed him aside. He frustrated me, but well, we're a couple.  
  
He leaves tomorrow for Greece. Afterwards, well, I suppose I won't see him again...until...well...until.  
  
I have to break up with him. 


	12. Part 12

_July 20_

_Home_

He left today.

They all left today, but I miss him the most.

I had thought that once he'd left I'd gain some semblance of reason and realize how he is wholly unsuited to me and my future.

I had thought that once he'd left I'd be able to go back to lab and Parliament and completely forget him.

But today, as I was concentrating down fractions, he came back into my thoughts again! And as frustrating as it was, they weren't altogether bad thoughts. Rather, they were pleasant musings, about his eyes, his many different smiles. The way he took my elbow on our date as we walked about the town.

Daydreaming in the lab!

Andre caught me and gave me the death of a teasing!

I miss him. Michael, that is.

Absence DOES make the heart grow fonder.

I have another month left here before I go back to New York for my sophomore year.

In this month, I will write a proposal for my project under Professor Austin, present the findings that our subcommittee has found, and make an abbreviated "see you next summer" tour around Genovia and Europe.

I am happy that I have so much to do, for I do believe that I would do myself harm if I were left to myself for this last month!

_July 23_

_Home_

Frustrations in lab today.

It's the fifth time I've failed at getting this reaction. I just don't get it. It works for Andre. It works for Gwyneth, Stefan, even Hermione. And yet, for me...

I feel completely incompetent.

When I got home this evening, I found Grandmere attending to the guests that I was SUPPOSED to host this evening. I didn't remember the engagement, though maybe Hannah mentioned it to me in passing this morning, but even had I recalled it I would not have been able to get back in time; the stupid workup of my reaction took twice as long as I thought it would take.

Overall, I just want to go to bed and wake up tomorrow and start over.

Number of times I thought of Moscovitz today: 32

_July 28_

_Home_

Genevieve, Andre, and I called Henry (Professor Austin has asked me to address him by his first name) today after lunch to talk with him about my proposal. He had a graduate student, Gretchen, with him, and it appears that I will be working with her once I get over to New York.

After an hour of discussion, Andre and I took enough notes so that I could shape my proposal adequately.

So I'm staying home from lab and Parliament tomorrow to work on my proposal. Not exactly a good time for it, for the subcommittee's report is due in two weeks.

But this proposal is due in one, so I think it takes precedent.

Princesses are students, too.

Number of times I thought of Moscovitz today: 23 (getting better!)

_August 2_

_Home_

Research proposal is finished, checked over by Genevieve and Andre, edited, and sent off to Gretchen and Henry over in the States. We'll see what they make out of it.

Meanwhile, I've rejoined my Parliament colleagues on the composition of our subcommittee report, and do you know, my experience in writing the research proposal has actually helped me?

Andrea and Genevieve have both criticized that my writing style is too conversational and far too wordy. I have learned to be much more concise and direct in my writing, and it has helped me in discussing items of issue with my colleagues on the subcommittee.

But, dear diary, I can still ramble all I want here.

I am sent off on a small loop of a tour next week after my subcommittee presents; I have to make my farewells.

And two weeks after that, I shall be back in the States.

Enrolled as a sophomore.

_August 13_

_Paris_

It's so sweet! Yesterday was my last day in lab and they took me out! They took ME out.

I don't think I've ever been taken out.

We went to Nichelle's, a little bar that is a favorite with them, where we proceeded to enjoy a nice leisurely dinner and a simply wonderful evening of conversation.

I feel so...appreciated!

I'm sure Lars was going ballistic, though. I don't usually go to bars, and well, it was so dark. I know it was not the most secure of locations to be in.

But to be in a group of people who DON'T need to be made comfortable...it was like being around Lilly, only with more people and not as close friends. But still fabulous people, nonetheless.

So now I'm in Paris, at the start of the "I'll see you later" tour, and I can't help but remember how much I had enjoyed myself this summer.

Times are changing.

_August 15_

_London_

Drama over registering for next year; I want to take Inorganic Chemistry but I know that it would weigh heavily on my current coursework: Microeconomic Theory, Macroeconomic Theory, Differential Equations, and Working in a Global Economy.

Calculus has been thankfully disposed of.

I already have four classes and a research project.

I do not have time for this.

But I am so tempted.

After all, wouldn't it help to understand what I was researching? I mean, Andre has done his best in telling me what he can, but really...

No, Amelia.

_August 20_

_New York, Helen's_

I'm back at Helen's.

She's gotten me a new bed. It's a nice soft new bed that I just sigh into at night. It was very sweet and considerate of her, but when I thanked her she simply shrugged and awkwardly came up with excuses.

I love her.

I know I do now.

It's not such a terrible realization. When I saw her at the airport waiting for me, I couldn't help but smile with the realization that someone in the state of New York was looking forward to my return.

I talked with her about my Inorganic Chemistry dilemma. She's not being helpful, as she thinks it's foolish of me to persist in majoring in econ when I obviously abhor it.

I was about to reply with a cutting remark about how she couldn't possibly understand what my duties to my country were and how my econ major was to be useful and applicable to my future when I suddenly stopped.

She was speaking out of concern for me, and had thought that I had asked for her advice not as a princess, but as a daughter.

If my life were to be so simple, this would never have been an issue. I KNOW beyond a pale of doubt that I would never have touched econ with a ten-foot-pole if I were not a princess; I am only moderately adept in the subject and profess that I could exist very happily without a deep knowledge.

But how is a princess supposed to run a country without a good understanding of economics?

How would a good understanding of chemistry help me rule Genovia?

As I sit here, I wonder what I am doing with my life; researching in a chemistry lab, tempting fate by thinking of signing up for an unnecessary and most likely difficult fifth class, and dating someone who is so wholly unsuited to my future.

Realistically, now is the time to start over. The start of a new school year. I could forget about the lab and project, forget about the class, and forget about the boyfriend.

I could devote myself completely to understanding economics and making sure it did not get the better of me.

And yet...

_August 21_

_Helen's_

I said goodbye to him tonight. He leaves for Boston tomorrow.

We went out for dinner. The two of us.

It was uncomfortable. I was every moment trying to get the courage to break it off with him. The words sat on my tongue, ready to be said, but too heavy to let out.

So instead, I simply watched Moscovitz eat his dinner. I watched him watch the movie, and when he asked me on our way back to his apartment why I was acting so strangely, I simply denied my strange behavior.

What will life be like this school year?

Why can't I break it off already?

We made no mentions of seeing each other again in the near future; one would think that if we tried to make a long distance relationship work, at least in the public eye, we'd have to make SOME plans.

I suppose the plans fall under my lot, as he's done ABSOLUTELY NOTHING for our relationship thus far, except for take my money and give it to the whales and trees.

He's done absolutely nothing to earn my regard and love. He's not even a suitable consort.

I should have just broken it off.

Instead now I enter a stage in my relationship with him that is even stranger than the one before; fake limbo. Not to know when I'll see him again, hear from him, knowing that I want to, knowing that I ought not to.

I am grateful the term will begin next week; I believe that the distraction of term will prove quite useful, and I can, at the very least, invest all this restless energy into work instead of worrying about a problem that shouldn't exist.

_August 30_

_Helen's_

I'm crazy.

I'm an idiot.

I signed up for the class.

AND biochemistry.

I'm SO DEAD.

Off to do homework.

_September 21_

_En route to Boston?_

What am I doing?

I have two exams next Wednesday and a paper due on Tuesday. And instead of being at home and studying, I am sitting on a plane on my way to visit my pseudo-boyfriend.

This term SUCKS. My econ classes are killing me, though I've managed to do better in them than I did in my classes last year. It's difficult material, to be sure, but that is not the reason why they are killing me.

I am so BORED with them.

If it weren't for the fact that I decided at the last minute to take on Inorganic and biochem, I'd be quite out of my mind.

Even though it DOES introduce an extra complication in my life, I'm much better off with chemistry in my life than without it.

I suppose the same could be said of Michael.

I've been far too busy to communicate much with him, but I've found that he's never far from my mind. So I'm hoping to see him this weekend and break up with him.

Maybe THEN I'll have some peace. Maybe THEN it won't be another source of stress.

I think we gave it a good enough "try" for the public eye. We can totally break up now and make it seem believable and mature of us.

So I called him to tell him I was visiting, and made the arrangements to fly up for the weekend; I will be staying at the Hilton near his dormitory, and when we are not together, I will study.

Why am I going? I really can't take the time off.

Not going to think about it.

_September 23_

_En route back to New York_

Not broken up yet.

I'm a wuss.

_October 24_

_Helen's_

Midterms suck.

Still not broken up.

And I've been to Boston two more times since I've last written.

Wuss.

_November 23_

_Helen's_

Finally! A breather!

This Thanksgiving, I am thankful for Thanksgiving.

In the past term, I've been to Boston five times.

What am I doing?

I can't understand WHY I go. We don't do anything special; oftentimes we simply go to a library and study a lot, as we are both completely swamped with work.

Every time I show up he sends me that lopsided grin that I want to wipe off his face and I ask myself why I am there.

I can't explain it; I get very good work done there, though. Some of my best papers have been written in Boston.

I simultaneously feel calmer and more excited around him. Things are sharper, clearer...I can understand things better just being around him because my mind is just that much sharper.

When I'm most stressed out, I will think of him and schedule a trip to see him.

I have my theories on this; I think it's just that I need to get away from New York. I need to find a quiet place to study; I find the library at MIT a lot nicer to study in.

And strangely enough, there's something comforting in hearing the clicks of the keyboard as he codes and debugs on his laptop across the table from me.

He hasn't asked me why I keep on visiting him and seeing as I don't quite understand it myself I don't mention it.

It's not like we get along. We snip at each other whenever we aren't studying. Over dinner, we are the couple we've always been; I say something, he finds a way to twist it around and make me sound stupid, and I get frustrated with him.

I have far less to talk to him about these days; research takes up a lot of my time and while it IS going well, I don't care to discuss it with him. Beyond that, I study almost every spare moment I get; taking six courses is not easy and it's slowly driving me insane.

I've almost convinced myself that I can manage a double major with econ and chemistry.

I've come to the conclusion that I cannot possibly survive the rest of my undergraduate career studying JUST econ. I just derive too much enjoyment from chemistry...

Anyhow, Moscovitz is coming back to New York this weekend for a change. Even more radical; we intend on going on a regular date on Friday night.

It was my idea, of course. When is it ever Moscovitz's idea?

I figure, seeing as this weekend is longer, I can pretend I don't have three huge problem sets due the following week and finals around the corner. I can delude myself into thinking I have a few days of freedom, at least.

Why I would want to spend one of those days with Moscovitz I do not know. But he hasn't been in New York for a while and I missed him.

Beyond that, well, I'd like to do something more with him than just study.

A date would be nice. And as he can't take the hint that maybe I'd want to see him in that context, well, I'm used to managing and arranging things.

Helen's been concerned with me as of late; I think she's surprised that I'm willing to make these almost biweekly jaunts to Boston, given how little I actually speak of Moscovitz. She's already given me the "is he really worth all this effort? What about your academics?" talk, but once I reassured her that my academics were not suffering (and gently reminded her that it was none of her business) she's since backed off completely from the topic.

I don't mean to push her away, but really, I don't want someone else reminding me of my strange foolish actions.

Father has also raised some concerns.

As I am old enough to make my own decisions, I also ignore and avoid the topic with him.

Lilly thinks it is disgustingly romantic.

Madeline thinks it is disgusting in general how much I pander to Moscovitz; she perpetually asks me why it is that he never visits me. I remind her that HIS income, unlike mine, does not allow for easy travel, and that I study better in Boston anyhow.

She rolls her eyes and tries to entice me away to Sweden instead.

Doesn't she realize that I can't go anywhere?

_November 26_

_Helen's_

I'm in shock.

And I'm absolutely positive that my heart is irretrievably _broken_.

Moscovitz broke up with me.


	13. Part 13

_**November 27  
Helen's **_

Still feeling pretty lousy.

Why did he have to choose _now_ to dump me? I've got finals coming up and I have papers to write...

...and yet all I want to do is hide under my covers.

Heartless stupid man.

Is it because he's met someone else?

Is it because he just...

I can't think about that.

It happened over dinner. I'd just gotten out of lab and was aching to just relax for a bit before I threw myself into my problem set for econ. I went to the Moscovitzs' to see him, and we went out for Chinese food...

...and over General Gao's chicken, he said it.

"I think it's time to stop."

In his slow easy laidback way, of course. So I couldn't tell if he was joking or dead serious.

* * *

_**Later  
Helen's **_

In the span of one year, I've been dumped _twice_.

Once by the man of my dreams. Once by the man I loved.

Moscovitz.

When I think of him I feel broken.

I just...I don't understand. _Why? Why did he break up with me?_

The association between us was done to protect my reputation, but the benefit was entirely on _his_ side. _I_ am the Princess of Genovia. _He_ is...Moscovitz.

I am the best he'll ever find in life. How could he _possibly_ do better?

It's so incredibly frustrating!

He _is_ odd, so I'm sure he found some strange reason in his mind to dump me, like I don't know enough computer languages for him.

* * *

**_November 28  
Helen's_ **

I didn't _think_ that it was possible, but I do believe that I feel _worse_.

I don't know whether or not I feel ashamed or angered.

It just hurts and hurts. I can't think about it, but I can't think of anything else. I want to just...

Oh why can't I focus on this problem set? It's due in twenty-four hours!

I should be working, but I just feel miserable, and confused, and just...

I can't stop thinking about him!

I talked to him today. I was at the Moscovitzs', about to step out with Lilly, and I just cracked and went to find him in his room to confront him.

_He_ didn't look like he'd been mourning the loss of my companionship. He was intent on his computer screen, obviously in the middle of debugging.

I should have known at that minute this would not go well; he's _never_ in a good mood when he's debugging.

But I was too agitated. I had to push ahead.

I asked him why he decided to end our relationship.

He asked me why I thought he did.

And so I told him that I had no idea, and I told him about how the advantages of our relationship were entirely on _his_ side. Beyond this, he had to understand all the hell Grandmere put me through, trying to match me with better gentlemen than he, a more suitable match. And I told him about how my birth dictated that I marry well, but I was dating his lowly, undistinguished, unmannered self because...

This is where I had to stop before telling him the whole truth.

I couldn't tell him that I _loved_ him. Especially when he'd just broken up with me. Especially when he had that hot flare of meanness in his eye.

He simply laughed and replied somewhat bitterly, meanly, "After that you're _still_ asking me why I broke up with you?"

I made him explain.

But he refused to answer. "Figure it out; your _superior intellect_ should give you all the answers you need. Now get out of here, brat."

And with that I was gone. I didn't bother to go and find Lilly. I just got in the limo and got away.

Brat?

Is that what he thinks of me?

But he _has_ to understand what I came from, right? And that there are so many pressures I have faced as a princess, what with coming into my own as an individual, being forced to attend college away from my country, and trying to figure out my own role in politics. And dealing with Grandmere and her _prospective suitors_.

_I am in a very difficult position_. _I do not lead an easy life_.

I can't believe he called me a brat! Brats are self-centered and they do not think of the needs and concerns of others. I think _all the time_ about others. I think of my family. Of my country. All the time.

Maybe I wasn't the most romantic of girlfriends, but I had many pressing matters on my mind, and he wasn't particularly being very wonderful or romantic to me. Maybe I should have simply tossed away all my responsibilities and sat around on _my_ computer all day and tried to figure out calc, to demonstrate how worthy I was of him.

_No!_ I was raised the way I was.

What a _prick!_

* * *

**_December 2  
Helen's_ **

He's gone now. I went by the Moscovitzs' for my session, and I was relieved that he'd left.

Thankfully, his parents did not want to talk over my problems with their son. I'm sure they were conflicted, and they alluded to it vaguely when they emphasized they were extremely unbiased professionals who were standing by to talk about _anything_.

I simply ignored them and told them more about the chemistry/econ drama.

After a grueling hour I left to lick my wounds in private and stew some more.

I am glad I have problem sets. Now that I'm over the initial shock, it's best to keep myself distracted.

Because if I don't, I just think of him.

And ask myself if what he said...was right.

There. I wrote it.

Yes, I've wondered about it. Did I come off proud, arrogant? Maybe, perhaps.

Did I come off rude and unappreciative of others? Perhaps.

I've been raised to take many things for granted.

But I shouldn't have taken those things, or his relationship with me for granted. Even _if_ I was paying him.

I understand that now.

And it's made me despise myself. I wonder how many people I take for granted _everyday_. I wonder how many people I unwittingly offend.

And when I hurt my head trying to keep track of my daily interactions, and worrying about my manners, I turn back to my six classes and try to make sure I'll pass them all.

And I congratulate myself on putting myself in a schedule so busy that I _can_ distract myself.

* * *

**_December 7  
Helen's_ **

Everybody is being annoyingly sympathetic. Helen, Frank, the Moscovitzs. While the Moscovitzs knew right away that we'd broken it off, I had refrained from informing Helen and Frank.

It was just...mortifying. Not admitting that I was dumped.

Just...when I admitted that we broke it up, she asked me _why_.

And I didn't want to tell her that I was a self-centered brat. I burn in shame when I think of the things I said to him. And I can't bear to think whether or not she agrees with him.

I can't offer a strong defense of myself.

So instead, I told Helen that things simply didn't work out. Maybe it was the distance. And she looked at me sympathetically. And I've practiced enough careless shrugs in the mirror to cover up my hurt.

She saw through it. I know she did. Her eyes flashed and she opened her mouth to say something. But she simply stated that I was around for her to talk to and left me alone.

After she made me a mug of hot cocoa.

I had to tell Father yesterday; I was just checking in with him and he asked how Michael was. And I simply stated that we broke up.

And he was _intensely_ uncomfortable. He simply muttered a few condolences and changed the subject.

I mean, Father was pretty uncomfortable with the whole Roddy thing. With me dating in general. But he didn't like Roddy half as much as he liked Michael.

And after all, Michael had been to _Genovia_. He was my first serious romance.

And, I hope, my last.

No, I don't hope that we'll get back together. I'd just rather...not be with anyone. Ever again.

* * *

**_December 15  
Helen's_ **

Michael comes back for Christmas on December 21. Lilly was gracious enough to volunteer that information to me.

Because I'm going to be on a plane out of here the twentieth.

I finished my finals today. There was no strange elation that I felt last year or even last summer. It was more...dread.

I did not want to face the reality of...

I went Christmas shopping with Lilly this afternoon.

We avoided the topic of her brother like the plague, except for the small piece of information I mentioned above.

I don't feel particularly festive and I certainly don't feel like buying presents. The thought of buying presents seems daunting and...just too much.

I halfheartedly picked out a new fur hat for Grandmere and a tie for Father (I pick him out one every year; it's been a tradition since I was only three and would simply gesture and have Grandmere arrange the details.)

I will go out tomorrow and pick out a gift for Lilly, Helen, Frank and the Moscovitz spouses.

I will not get anything for Michael. At least, I don't think it'd be a good idea.

When I got home tonight, I made sure to secure my plans for departure. I confirmed with Helen that she, Frank and I were going out for a Christmas dinner on the nineteenth. And I will take the Moscovitz family (minus a certain Michael) out for dinner on December eighteenth.

And I refused to attend _any_ Christmas galas in New York this year, for lack of Christmas spirit. And my finals.

* * *

**_December 18  
Helen's_ **

I got a mailing from Greenpeace today and I cried for an hour. I am embarrassed and mortified.

After I dried my tears, I wrote a check for another two hundred dollars and mailed it off.

I thought about ending my donations, but I could not bring myself to do so. After all, it _is_ a good cause. And...

I don't know. I just felt better after sending it. Even if I'm _not_ dating Moscovitz. It's just...

It's just a stupid habit I can't get rid of. The thought of simply callously stopping...it's not some almost extinct parrot's fault if Michael won't date me anymore.

But I admit it. Part of me did it for him. And for me. The part of me that still loves him.

Part of me is petty and is doing it to show him.

I go to dinner tonight with Lilly and her parents. I wonder how it'll be. I'm sure Michael will come up in conversation occasionally; the Moscovitzs will not on the clock and he is, after all, their _son_.

I long to hear about him. I wonder if he's happy, and what he's up to, now that he doesn't have a self-centered brat of a princess to watch over.

Yes, I am still bitter.

He may be _somewhat_ right, but I'm still allowed to hurt.

He's also arrogant in his own way. It's not like he was perfect in his delivery. He never takes _anything_ or _anyone_ serious. One day, he'll want to say something in earnest and no one will believe him. He won't even know how to say it.

And now I'm just mad all over again. And mad at myself for trying to push the blame on him again.

For _shame_, Amelia!

* * *

**_Later  
Helen's_ **

He was _here_. He _came._

And what ensued was worse than watching a crocodile get a root canal.

I showed up at the restaurant a few minutes early to make sure everything was in order. I had settled down at the table when I turned and saw them...and _him_.

And the hurt and pride was the only thing keeping me together.

I smiled falsely and embraced Lilly in greeting and smiled at the Moscovitzs. It took a bit of effort but I managed a careless kiss on his cheek, as if between friends. And I balled my fingers into a fist until my fingers were numb to keep my calm.

I looked straight through him while I greeted him and asked the waiter kindly if we could have another chair, which they took care of immediately.

And then I proceeded to remain quiet throughout the rest of the evening.

I just...I just didn't want to say a word.

There were two ways I was going to handle it, I suppose: I was either going to talk too much too quickly, or simply not talk at all. And I have to say, that it was much better that I got to quietly smile at Lilly and speak quietly with her than show off before him and just...fall over myself.

Dinner was a tense affair. Michael wasn't talking either and I didn't look in his direction at _all_ to find if he was enjoying himself or not. Conversation relied heavily on the Moscovitzs themselves.

I don't remember if the food was good or not; I was too nervous to really taste it. I simply ate until my plate was empty and signed the bill when it was presented. Lilly and her parents presented wrapped packages to me at that moment and I _knew_ that my hands were too rubbery to handle it. I simply smiled and thanked them, and calmly handed them bags with their gifts inside. We then said Happy Holidays in farewell and I shook hands and went through the ordeal of hugging all of them and _him_ again.

Maybe I should have behaved even more...I don't know. Maybe I should have sparkled and showed him what he was missing.

But...but I just couldn't. I didn't want to. And seeing him so suddenly when I did not expect to threw me off. I wasn't prepared.

But I think despite the surprise, I handled myself well. I handled myself as well as I could, at any rate, and I don't think I let him see how deeply he hurt me, which was the most important.

Because while I don't want him to think me arrogant, a girl's got to be left _some_ pride, _some_ dignity.

* * *

**_December 21  
Home in Genovia_ **

Grandmere has bombarded me with social engagements. This is her way of consoling me. Setting me up with a bunch of different, appropriate men. This time, in earnest: no subtle hints. When the prospects leave, she asks me if I enjoyed myself.

I smile and reply honestly.

But I don't tell her this is a useless endeavor. I just...I don't want to let her know how deeply my relationship with Michael has affected me; she's always been in denial over the association, despite her making perfectly elegant small-talk with him and his family during their visit.

When she speaks of him, she conveys to me her relief in my saving myself for a far greater fate. She assures me that he didn't even deserve to kiss my toes.

And I know it's all a lie.

One she truly believes, but all the same. A lie to me.

I've consciously made efforts to converse with _everyone_ this holiday season. And not because I am hostess. But because...

Because I want to make myself better in some strange way. Just better.

It's tiring to keep track of who has a daughter going where, a son getting married and whatnot. But I'm trying. And if Michael were ever to learn of how much I am trying...

...but I'm _not_ doing this only for him. And I don't really care if he does know.

Ok, maybe I'd rather that he did. And not.

I want him to know I'm making efforts to be more considerate of others. But I don't want him to know that his words affected me so deeply.

That he has so much...power over me.

* * *

**_December 25  
Genovia_ **

It's Christmas and I can't muster up the joy to feel happy. I can't delight in my presents. I can't feel festive.

I've become the master of the false smile. The one that conveys that this princess was not so injured by the disappointment she'd found in her romantic private life.

I had to attend a few galas here and there. And I was good.

But now it's Christmas and I am allowed to sit here on my window seat and simply be exhausted.

I go back to New York in a week and I'm not quite sure I'm ready to face another term. And yet, my heart does rejoice that I'll have something else to fret and think about.

I again faced the struggle of what I really want to study in choosing my classes for next term. I've registered for advanced organic and quantum as well as two econ classes that do not inspire me at all. And one political science course about Eastern European countries.

Maybe I should not have been so depressed when I made my selections; I just keep thinking that taking more chemistry courses will make me happier and I obviously could use that, and not more econ.

I'm staying in Henry's lab next term; I had a good time working for him, and some of my work was looking pretty promising right before finals...

I've heard the Quantum is terrible. Extremely time consuming. And of course, there'll be a lot of math, which intimidates me.

But I look forward to it too, because at least I can just...dive in.

No spare time for stewing. No social scene, well, except for Lilly and Helen and the group of friends I have now. No dating scene for sure; I think I've had more than enough men for a while, thank you.

And no traveling. Not this term. I should have more time for lab this way. And that's always good.

* * *

**_ December 27  
Genovia_ **

Is it possible to feel lonely, even when you're home? Even when you're with your loved ones?

* * *

**_December 28  
Genovia_  
**  
Pathetic. No idea why I wrote the above. Couldn't sleep last night. 

Now, having rested up, I can say that I was obviously delusional. Because I'm perfectly fine.

Maddy and Carl Philip are here! We go to the ballet tonight.

* * *

**_December 30  
Genovia_ **

Grades are in.

And I now realize I have yet _another_ thing to feel terrible about.

One A, one C, and four Bs.

Really, I suppose I should have spent more time studying econ this term. But the material was just so boring. And I spent the time on inorganic chemistry instead. And it shows, because I got an A in it.

Still, Bs across the board isn't bad, considering I was taking six classes, held a lab position and was trying to make a long distance relationship work.

I don't know..._exactly_ how I feel about these grades. I'm numb. And really, it doesn't really feel like it matters.

And yet I _am_ aware I just got a C in a class that's within my major. I am aware that _this isn't good_.

And so I suppose I'll have to spend more time with my _boring_ classes next term.

But I guess that, as I won't be traveling to Boston every other weekend, and will be enrolled in one less class, and plan on having no romantic or social life _whatsoever_, I should be able to handle my schedule just fine.

* * *

**_December 31  
Paris_ **

How sweet of Father to bring me here for the New Year! I think he knows more of my pain than he lets on. And he is more concerned than he shows.

He knows I love Paris, and has offered to take me shopping. I politely declined, and instead asked him to bring me to the Louvre. We had a quiet but enjoyable afternoon, chatting between paintings.

We are going to have dinner tonight. Just the two of us. We shall follow it up with opera and watching the fireworks from his suite tonight.

And I can't think of a better date.


	14. Part 14

Author's Note: I may have messed up Michael's birthday by a day. Sorry! 

As always, I don't own these characters. They belong to Meg Cabot.

**

* * *

**

**_January 2  
Helen's_**

A new year, a new semester.

And the same old depressed Mia.

I had Dido's "White Flag" on repeat for the whole miserable plane ride back to New York.

And I just hate it. I hate just sitting around and stewing. And hating myself. I can't wait until this term begins.

It's not like thinking about him is going to get him back for me. It's not like even if I did see him I'd know what to say to him. _Nothing can fix this_._ We are two people who are too different_.

The minute I got back I dragged Helen to get ice cream with me and we exchanged vacation stories; Franklin brought Helen to meet his family. Thankfully, she survived and actually charmed a few Gianinis along the way.

We went for a walk through Central Park. She didn't make me talk, which was nice.

I was tempted to. I just wanted to explode and dump on her all the crap that I felt. But I was just _terrified_ of what she would say. If, when I told her that Michael had found me such a despicable person, she'd shift uncomfortably and imply that she felt the same.

But when we got back to the apartment, she simply told me that she was glad I was back.

And _that_ was nice.

She can't find me despicable if she's glad I'm back, right?

**

* * *

**

**_January 5_**_  
**Starbuck's**_

Today is his birthday.

A completely useless fact to remember, given the current circumstances.

Will I always remember his birthday? The birthday of all my ex-boyfriends?

Granted, Roddy and I were not together long enough to even _think_ of birthdays and the like. But I really do wonder if five years from now I'll be in Parliament and I'll just suddenly remember: Today's Michael's birthday.

And I wonder if that fact will make me feel as crappy as it makes me feel now.

I can't begrudge the man a _birthday_. What kind of cruel person would I be?

It's just...at this point, I strive not to think of him. But then details like birthdays come up and I remember.

With classes starting, I have lots of things to think about. And I keep myself as distracted as possible.

But when there's that passing remark, like "Oh, you know, Michael says that blah..." or "Oh, that's just Michael's..." at the Moscovitzs', or when I'm with Helen and she inadvertently mentions him: "oh...didn't we go there a few months ago with Michael?"

Those hurt.

And nobody means to hurt me. But they come out. Because Michael is _still_ technically a part of my life. Even if he is miles and miles away.

**

* * *

**

_**January 7  
****Library**_

Not even back for a full week and I'm already buried under more problem sets.

I suppose I asked for it.

**

* * *

**

_**January 9**  
**Helen's**_

Maddy's here and I have no idea what to do.

I have three problem sets to do this weekend, one of which promises to be a huge headache. I _really really_ need to sit down with the quantum notes and textbook and just read things over and over until I get it all straight.

And here she is, with tickets to the Met for tonight and she's just _tempting_ me away...

I know she's doing this because she cares. She _was_ rather hurt that she had to find out from a magazine that Michael and I had split.

So I _would_ like to spend time with her. Because I feel terrible that I didn't even _think_ to call and tell her about what had happened.

But I'm in college and in the middle of yet another challenging busy term. Buying tickets for a Tuesday night performance is _not_ a good idea. Why didn't she go for Friday or Saturday? Or a matinee on Sunday?

I just don't know what to tell her.

I suspect I'll be going to the Opera tonight.

**

* * *

**

_**Later  
****Helen's**_

I tried to relax. Instead, I just sat there stewing over my classes. It was "Die Zauberflote": one of my favorite operas and I just couldn't enjoy it.

Neither was dinner very comfortable. Maddy said a number of things that made me uncomfortable. Namely, a full critique of my ex-boyfriend.

We used to do it for all her exes. It would be cathartic and she'd feel so much better having proven that her ex at the time was clearly so unworthy of her.

And yet, when she started on Michael, I just...

I think she was disappointed in me. She tried to give me a pep talk on moving on, and how Michael was clearly not the one for me from the very beginning.

He is unsuitable, she said.

And my burned pride basked in the glow of her defense of me.

But I stewed in my shame as I wondered if she realized just how unsuitable I was for _him_.

I just couldn't _talk_ to her. So I simply let her babble for me, stew for me, boil for me.

But when she suggested we ought to go to London and forget Michael this weekend and find me someone to just "have fun" with I politely declined.

Because I don't want to "have fun" with just anyone.

**

* * *

**

**_January 14_**_**  
Helen's**_

Can no one leave me alone?

Grandmere arrived today and commanded my presence at dinner.

Dinner with her, Patrick Lundweig, and his parents, to be exact.

Was it not enough that I smiled disinterestedly while at home for the holidays? Does she not realize that I just don't want to be with anyone? That I'm still hurting?

I don't even think she _believes_ I need time to hurt. As if I didn't feel..._anything_ for Michael. It's as if she expects me to throw myself in whole-heartedly to picking out a new escort.

As if I _always_ need one, now that I've had one.

I was as courteous as I could be during dinner this evening. Patrick and I had interesting and polite conversation throughout the meal. We danced for a bit when Grandmere suggested it.

But when Grandmere suggested I take tomorrow afternoon to show Patrick New York, I politely declined, speaking honestly that I had entirely too much work to do.

Is no one taking my studies seriously but me?

**

* * *

**

_**January 18  
****Limo**_

I do love Grandmere, but _when will she go away?_

Maybe she worries that I'll choose another _unsuitable_.

She shouldn't worry. Really.

I've been feeling incredibly _anti_-relationship. _Anti_-consort.

I daydream of being another Virgin Queen. Elizabeth I never married and look at how effective _she_ was as a ruler. My father never wed, and _he_ seems to be doing perfectly fine.

Rene is _bound_ to get married at some point. I can always settle the throne on _his_ children.

So now when she suggests I clear my schedule for dinner, I decline. I have better things to do with my time.

To be quite honest, even if _Michael_ wanted to be with me now, I wouldn't want to be with him.

**

* * *

**

_**Later**  
**Helen's**_

_Liar, Amelia!_

**

* * *

**

_**January 21  
****Helen's**_

Quantum sucks.

Progress: I've stopped despising myself. And despising people in general.

**

* * *

**

_**January 24**  
**Quantum**_

I miss him.

**

* * *

**

_**January 31**  
**Library**_

I have no business in being a chemistry major; I really really suck at quantum.

And Franklin cannot help me this time.

**

* * *

**

**_February 14_**_**  
Helen's**_

I was wrong; it's not just quantum. _Everything_ sucks.

**

* * *

**

_**February 15**  
__**Ben & Jerry's**_

Still haven't recovered, but I forced myself to attend classes today and adhere to my regular schedule, if only to pretend for a while that things were ok.

But I couldn't keep my focus on _anything_.

And I can't help but feel frustrated; how is someone to keep up good grades when everything is just falling apart inside?

Having dinner with Lilly, Michael, and Michael's new girlfriend was _not_ on my agenda for yesterday when I went to the Moscovitzs' for my session.

But that is, indeed, how I spent the most romantic evening of the year.

Why is it that every time I see him I feel worse? I always imagined that with every subsequent meeting, the awkwardness, the pain would die away. That time would just...seal it up and I'd be able to look at him without longing, without...

But seeing Michael yesterday night was like taking my broken heart, peeling away the protective layer of plastic I had barely managed to get on over it, and dipping it into it a vat of salt.

It was _that painful_.

Michael's new girlfriend, Emily, is a nice smart graduate student in math. She went to the University of Michigan for her undergraduate; she grew up in Illinois. She's moderately tall, with big, bright green eyes and soft auburn hair.

And save her hideous sense of fashion, she seems to be perfect in _every single way_.

And I know it doesn't matter what she wears, but the petty pithy part of me has to find _some_ flaw.

When we got back to Lilly's room, Lilly tried to get me to talk with her. I know she's been waiting for me to tell her about what happened, but I just can't do it yet. I can't tell her what her brother said to me, I can't tell her the whole mortifying story.

And so she just told me she had no idea that Michael would want to come back to New York for Valentine's Day.

I'm heartbroken. I can't begin to describe how...how deep my heart sank. And burned.

I can't pretend he doesn't deserve a girlfriend. I was far more involved in this than he was.

I know I've dwelt on him a long time. I know I should move on. I know that I should just stop whining. I am only relieved that I don't whine half as much in real life as I do here.

But I can't help it. It _won't_ go away. I see him and I hurt. I hear his voice and I yearn.

And when I don't see him, I wonder.

And this isn't healthy; I have exams, classes, and all sorts of strange little engagements I get last-minute notice on.

Tomorrow night will be another classic example; Father has engaged me to go to a hospital gala with him.

And I know I _can't_ feel beautiful. I've tried for the past two months. I can't feel beautiful, or social, or fun.

I'd rather bury myself under textbooks.

**

* * *

**

_**February 17**  
**Library**_

Be careful what you wish for.

I HATE QUANTUM.

Stop it, Amelia. The exam's been taken.

And though I don't want to worry...well...this class is absolutely terrible!

**

* * *

**

_**February 24**  
__**Quantum**_

How is it that I got a passing grade on this exam?

Elated. I am elated.

There is good in this world.

It's staring me in the face in the form of a B- marked in red.

Not only passing. Yes indeed. A _B-_. On _Quantum_. One of the most hideous chemistry courses ever.

And yes, involving _math_.

See, Amelia? See what you can accomplish when you focus on your studies?

Well, it helps that _everybody_ in the class did _terrible_ on the exam. But never mind that. I can triumph for a little.

**

* * *

**

_**March 3  
Helen's**_

I just look forward to spring break. A nice restful week. Grandmere and Father want me to go back to Genovia, but I think I'll stay here. When I told them my intentions, they thought of coming here and dragging me out, but I put my foot down. I want to just sit. Relax. Read a few books. Non-chemistry ones.

I felt guilty demanding this time to myself; I don't see Father or Grandmere half as often as I should. But I need this time to myself.

**

* * *

**

_**March 14  
Helen's**_

Michael had a cold, but he's better now.

And I was doing _so_ well not thinking of him, not dwelling.

I like to think that I was healing.

Well, I was getting pretty good at distracting myself, that's for sure.

But then something like this happens and it just...

It feels like being doused in cold water. You just jolt and can't get yourself together quickly. You stand there, shocked. And cold. Shivering.

It's stupid, really. He had a cold. And then he got better. So what?

But _he_ had a cold. And _he_ got better.

And I hadn't thought about him in quite some time. I mean it!

Maybe a passing thought once a day.

But really, I was on the road to recovery. I had devoted myself to my classes and was focused.

Oh, how am I supposed to take on my econ midterm tomorrow? I can't study right now!

**

* * *

**

_**March 19  
Helen's**_

Two more days, and then spring break!

Just finish this stupid paper, Amelia.

But just can't help it if I'm unmotivated.

I was much more efficient at writing when I was going to Boston. Maybe it was the MIT libraries. Maybe it was the constant guilt. Maybe it was because he was always working too...

...leave it, Amelia.

**

* * *

**

_**March 23**  
**Helen's**_

And a breath of air.

And it occurs to me _now_: I can't go back.

Not any more.

He's _with someone else_.

I know. It was more than a _month_ ago. How stupid and dense can I be?

I can blame it on classes, but to be quite honest, I think it was denial. I just couldn't face it then. I could be pissed off and just stew in...I don't know. I just...it just didn't hit me _this way_.

It hurt when I saw him with her. A _lot_.

But...but now it occurs to me. She's not another Myra Pennyworth, or a _me_. She's someone special.

Some he'll take seriously.

And want to be with. For a long, long time.

And that hurts me infinitely more.

Move on. It is really time to move on. I can't just...

But I can move on to no one, right? I can wait until I think I'm ready again.

But I can't go back.

Not that I think he would have had me, at any rate.

**

* * *

**

_**March 24**  
**Helen's**_

So, it started when I helped Helen with her recent project today. I helped cut out articles.

Not newspaper articles. Just articles. A. An. The.

My fingers are really really tired from cutting out these insipid letters.

But we had a good time. We talked a bit about classes. New York in the spring.

And then she asked me how I would feel if she and Franklin got married.

First, I was excited for her.

And then, I was surprised she asked me. Because it really is none of my business, except that instead just Franklin living in our apartment, we'd have Franklin's stuff too.

And then it occurred to me: Franklin is the first man my mother will marry after my Father.

And when it occurred to me I shifted awkwardly.

Because really, I don't remember that. As long as I've been alive, I've hardly _ever_ seen my mother.

And now she was asking me...

And I was really touched.

"I think it'd be a great idea," I told her honestly. "And I'm flattered that you asked me."

To which she blushed and moved away to clean paintbrushes.

And then I pushed her forward and asked her about wedding details.

They're eloping to Las Vegas!

And it startled me how much I've changed, because a year ago I would have been up in arms and telling her that her behavior was not becoming of a woman who was the mother of the Princess of Genovia.

But really, her eyes were shining and it sounded adventurous, exciting, and just...so remarkably Helen.

She wants me to go with her and Frank! And be her bridesmaid!

They're going _this weekend_.

Short notice, but I was just sitting around anyway.

So I agreed!

It's just so...great. I'm just so very happy for them right now. And I can't wait to see them get married!

Helen and I are going to go out and buy a dress tomorrow. Because I still think _that_ is essential.

**

* * *

**

_**Later**  
**Helen's**_

Oh GOD. WHAT IS FATHER GOING TO THINK!

I mean, I don't think he's in love with her anymore.

But still. I mean. They had a child. And he's fond of her.

I want to bring it up with Helen. But I'm afraid to.

But I have a right, yes? He's my father! I love him! And I don't want him to hurt.

But I want to see Helen happy. And this marriage would make her happy.

GAH.

**

* * *

**

_**March 25**  
**Helen's**_

She's already told him. She's already told him and he's happy. And he's also coming.

I found out over the kitchen table this evening, when I asked her if we were going to book plane tickets.

She answered, "We _can't_ fly commercial, Mia. You're the princess of a country. It's not very safe to just stick you on a plane with a bunch of strangers."

And so I was shuddering at the prospect of a road trip when she went on to say, "I've already talked it over with Philippe. He's coming with us, and we're taking the royal plane."

And I just stared at her.

Did the whole country of Genovia know that she was getting married that weekend, then?

She laughed before I could even ask. "He's telling them it's for recreational use. Besides, he's flown me and Frank everywhere in that thing to see you."

"So...he doesn't mind?" I had to ask.

And Helen just _then_ realized how stressed out I was over the whole ordeal and she immediately apologized. "Oh, Mia, I didn't mean for you to get so worked up about it! Yes! He knows! I told him before I told you."

"...and?"

"And he's _happy_. Mia, believe it or not, your father and I are _friends_ and love each other very much."

And I got that warm and fuzzy feeling again.

It may be slightly strange, but I really do love my family.

But enough of that! Bookings! Hotels! Honeymoons! More dress shopping!

I might add that dress shopping with Helen is one of the most difficult tasks _ever_. It should not come as a surprise that our fashion tastes are in direct opposition.

It _is_ her wedding, though, so she gets to choose. But every time she looks at me insecurely and asks me honestly what I think, well. I'm honest.

_**

* * *

**_

_**March 27**  
**Plane, en route to Las Vegas**_

So extremely confused and in a state of suspense.

Was on the limo with Father and Helen and Frank when I got a phone call from...Michael.

And I nearly dropped my cell phone when I first heard his voice, because this was the first time he'd ever called me (aside from the "Ok I'm done coding, let's eat" calls).

And with my heart in my mouth (I felt _that_ sick with nerves at that moment!) I asked him how he was and we made insipid comments for the prerequisite two minutes before he moved on to what he actually called for.

And he told me that he'd like to meet with me.

At which I almost dropped the phone again.

Father, Helen, and Frank were all watching me curiously at this point so I shifted uncomfortably and turned towards to window to try to gain some privacy.

And I told him that I was unfortunately leaving town today and would not be back until Sunday morning.

To which he asked if I'd be up for ice cream on Sunday afternoon.

Yeah. _There's_ a shocker. _He_ asked to meet with _me_. For _ice cream_.

I agreed, of course. I mean, he was polite and somewhat serious so I'm guessing that he actually wants to talk with me about something serious.

Does he want to get back together with me?

Or maybe he and Emily are eloping to Paris and want me to be the bridesmaid?

It is so tempting to let this ruin my trip. Absolutely _ruin_ it.

Father and Helen have already been shooting me careful inquisitive looks and simply asking me nonchalantly if things were "all right".

And well, they are. Right? My _mother_ is getting _married_ to a _wonderful man_. My _father_ is happy for them. I can imagine a lot of things that could be worse.

So I _can't_ let Michael ruin my mother's wedding for me. I _can't_.

Please, Amilia. Just _try_. For _everybody_.


	15. Part 15

Note: Sorry it's taken so long for me to get back at this. I promise I'll try to be more faithful in updating. Thank you for staying with this story._  
_

* * *

_March 28  
Bellagio suite_

What _could_ he want to talk to me about?

I know I said I wouldn't think about it, but really. That was just unrealistic.

It's not like I'm letting thoughts of him interfere with anything; we got checked in to the hotel all right.

And when I went down for my stone massage and manicure/pedicure with Helen, I did a good enough job carrying my end of the conversation. And Helen was so gosh darn cute and happy that I couldn't help but be happy for her, and just ignore the stupid Michael thing for a bit.

I don't know what I'd feel as a bride, but I can tell you that I would never have imagined myself half as calm and happy as Helen is; she goes on and on about her current piece, the gallery show she for which is preparing, and coasters and coffee tables, of all things! When pressed for wedding details, she simply smiles and discusses the topic as if it were the weather, or a new recipe she was planning on having Franklin try.

I suppose it is good that she's calm, but I don't know. I had always thought I'd be plagued by thoughts of the future, and worries over whether or not all the details would work out for the wedding, etc.

But then again, they _are_ in Vegas, and they're about to get a wedding "package" at a respectable chapel that marries at least twelve couples a day. Twelve weddings a day probably means that the potential for screw-ups are next to nil. Furthermore, well, Helen already has a _grown daughter_. And while she wasn't around to raise me, I'm pretty sure that _childbirth_ is definitely the most stressful and painful life could possibly get. You know. Aside from the death of loved ones and oneself. Or if you're a policeman or a firefighter or some sort of military personnel. I'm pretty sure life's pretty tough then too.

Franklin seems pretty mellow too; I'm telling you, he and Helen are perfectly matched. Since getting here, they've simply relaxed and enjoyed themselves. Franklin's won $150 on Blackjack. Father's lost $200, but seems to be enjoying himself as well.

And I continue to try to relax but fail miserably whenever you-know-who's name comes to mind, which is just about every three and a half minutes.

Thankfully, spring break is almost over and there's the pressure of all the papers and problem sets due on Monday. I don't think I've ever been so glad to do homework. I spent part of this afternoon working on a paper out of desperation; the idleness of the spa was entirely too quiet and allowed for too much time. I have to say, the paper was much more effective a distraction and I passed three happily peaceful hours immersed in comparing the trading policies of pre- and post-World War II Germany. Sadly, the paper actually wrote itself into a finish and I was left with the unappetizing biochem problem set.

The ceremony will occur in another two hours and until then I can either work more on the problem set, dwell more on Michael, or wander downstairs into a city where I am not old enough to gamble or drink or really participate.

If only he'd just not called! Or at least, waited until I was back from Vegas, (not like he _knew _I was going out of town, though) so that we could meet as soon as possible, without all this suspense!

Just as well. I think I should prepare myself for eventualities. As far as I can see, there are four reasons why he'd want to meet with me:

REASONS MICHAEL MOSCOVITZ WOULD WANT TO MEET WITH ME

1. Break my heart some more by being his traditional thoughtless self.

2. Ask for some remaining stuff back?

3. Ask for forgiveness for being such a terrible boyfriend.

4. Ask for a reconciliation.

OMG, he's going to humiliate me, isn't he?

I mean, think about it. We've _never_ had a good interaction. He's _never_ been good to me. Why was I stupid enough to think that this would be a good meeting?

Neither of the last two options is even _possible_. The first two are kinda like a Venn diagram. He can hurt me regardless, but if he asks for his stuff back, then he gets stuff _and_ my pain. All this over a lousy black hoodie with a band name on the back. This is terrible. Absolutely terrible. I don't want to meet with him and I do want to meet with him. Because even if I know it'll hurt, I just want to be around him and see him. This is so stupid.

Helen called just now. She wants me to help her prepare.

This should be thrilling. Instead, I think I'm going to be sick.

* * *

_March 28  
Bellagio Suite_

The deed is done and it was lovely. Helen was beaming, Frank was delighted and now the married couple is off for two weeks in Hawaii on their honeymoon. Father and I remain here one more night. Tomorrow we fly back to real life and all its trappings: he back to Genovia, to his daily toil and important decisions that affect a whole country, me to New York, back to college life and that imminent problem of dealing with Michael.

Honestly, I'd rather take on Father's problems than Michael, and I know that's foolish because the minute I approached Father's decisions I'd figure out that the whole Michael thing was a piece of cake.

So here's the strategy tomorrow: get in, smile, see how he is, give him what he wants, and then run.

This will most likely not work. Not at all.

* * *

_March 29  
Plane en route to New York_

I had promised myself that I wouldn't write in here. All I can do is complain and think and worry, but I don't want to do it _out loud_, so here I am again.

I wonder if he'll bring that girl of his. What's her face. Emma. Eileen?

Oh. I wrote it earlier. _Emily_.

I hope he doesn't bring her. She didn't look smug or anything when I'd met her, but I think it would have been easier to hate her if she had. As it stands, I simply feel like crap for disliking such an obviously beautiful and patient human being.

I wish Father were on the plane too, instead of going straight back to Genovia on his own. Lars is here, but what small conversation I've tried to make with him has resulted in curt nods. I don't think he's feeling particularly conversational. He's never been. But I guess I can't expect him to be bodyguard _and_ sounding board. I'm sure he'd expect a raise and a promotion before he touched _that_ mess. A substantial raise.

And I don't want to talk about Michael with him.

Oh come on, Amelia. You _do_ want to talk about Michael with him. You're bursting to talk about Michael with _anyone_.

But I'm smart enough to know not to _do _it.

A princess must have her own personal limitations. Discussing her romantic problems with just anyone is definitely not permissible.

By this time tomorrow, I'll have met him and found out what he wants. If I am indeed setting myself up for a humiliating scene, I'll move on and continue to pretend I was never this foolish and nervous.

But if he wants to be with me again…

* * *

_March 30  
Home_

Two more hours until I meet with Michael.

Please let it go well. Please let me not make a fool out of myself. Please let me look fantastic and let him miss me.

Foolish.

It's only ice cream, so I'd feel stupid if I fretted about what to wear (I already did. I'm wearing the cute red sweater from Anthropologie and my jeans from Dolce & Gabana.)

What am I going to do for two hours? This is ridiculous.

* * *

_Later  
Home_

I should be glad. I really should.

So why do I feel like crying?

It went well. Really well. We didn't fight. We had a good conversation. We spoke honestly.

And at the end of it all, he went his way and I went mine.

I can't explain just what I'm feeling. I know what I _want_ to feel.

Why is it that whenever I walk away from seeing him, I always have a bad taste in my mouth?

This time, I feel immature, awkward, and a terribly ungrateful person.

Today, Michael Moscovitz offered me a chance to erase all the past, and I took it. But a good 65 of me really didn't want to. Because in spite of all the annoyances, arguments, pain, etc., well, I was able to _be_ with him.

I managed to hide all feelings of inadequacy and poutiness long enough to accept his offer. And I was true to his proposal: no apologies, nothing about how the last, you know, _year_ has gone.

We're friends. He said we were. This should make me feel better, but it really doesn't. It makes me wonder. You know, why he made this effort. A part of me hopes that maybe he sees through everything and realizes that I am a good person, and worth having as a friend.

But then the _realistic_ part of me laughs and says that if I truly believe that crap, well, then I'm far more delusional than I thought. It was probably Lilly. Or his parents. But no way did Michael suddenly see any sort of proverbial light; he isn't the type to, and I am certainly not worth that sort of revelation.

Oh god. I sound like an insecure twit. How can I be so…so…ew. Screw it. I hate this.

* * *

_Later  
Home_

That _was_ rather anticlimactic, you know? Okay, so looking back, I wasn't looking for a great reconciliation. Or a great blowup (though _that_ would not have surprised me either). But to just go there, have him fork over $3.62 for my single scoop of rocky road in a cup, and then sit down and tell me that things ought to be all right between us? Well, who knows.

I should be glad that things _are _all right between us. But…I feel like I've lost a competition. Or that some major decision has been made without me. Granted, it's not like I was in a very good position with him before; he was hardly speaking to me, and I could barely speak to him. And I was heartbroken all the time.

But what if he expects me to just stand by and watch him be happy with someone else? What if he expects me to be happy for him? Oh god, what if he and his girlfriend get married and I have to sit and watch that with this stupid fake smile on my face while my heart was breaking inside?

Ugh. Why hasn't my melodrama killed me yet?

But maybe this is what I need. You know, to help me get over him. If we just behaved normally with each other, maybe I'll get used to not wanting to see his smile. The twinkle in his eye. Maybe I won't miss the feel of his hand at my elbow as he guided me from here to there.

Well, thinking _this_ way won't get me closer to my goal, now, will it?

I should work on that biochem problem set.

It's so lonely here without Helen and Franklin. I hate being on my own.

* * *

_April 3  
Home_

It was another day at the Moscovitz apartment. When I arrived, Michael opened the door! I think he could sense my hesitation, but we both tried to move past that. He smiled (a polite, "you're a friend" smile…not one of the "boy are you a piece of work" ones) and stepped aside to let me in.

I didn't even recognize the smile at first, and I have to say it's just got me feeling weird. I mean, I've seen him smile at his friends. And it doesn't look like that. But then again, the other friends whom I've seen around him are all comfortable, non-bratty non-ex-fake-girlfriends. I guess Michael doesn't have many of those, so it's understandable that he has no idea how to interact with me.

Not like I was much better. If he thought I was fake and artificial before, he saw me at another level today. And the thing is, well, I _knew_ I was being a retard. But I couldn't stop it. And I couldn't bring it down and be normal.

It's just going to be like this for like ten years. And then we'll get sick of this and be okay with each other. Right.

Right?_  
_

* * *

_April 15  
Home_

Helen and Franklin are home! They bought me a beautiful shell pendant and the Most Delicious Pineapple In the World.

What am I doing this summer? I was asked that today. And well, this is really stupid of me, but I should have secured it a long time ago. Anyhow, I think things are settled: I'm going back home and spending the summer doing the same thing as I was doing last summer; working at the ESSG and spending time in parliament.

I think it's a good thing. I've already secured Lilly's presence during the Summer Ball; she'll be interning at a small newspaper this summer in San Francisco. And of course, the Moscovitzs will be invited.

All of them.

But I don't expect them to come. They've all got their own lives.

I think the summer will be good for me. Grandmere will probably still be in super matchmaker form, but I'll deal. And who knows? You know?

* * *

_Later_

Okay, that _would_ be nice. I mean, there's no reason why I should be pining away. And I mean, I've spent four months sitting around just _thinking_ about him. Maybe it's time that I just…

There are other men out there. And I didn't give any of them a chance last summer. I haven't given any one a chance, really. Not a real one. I was being so damn picky. But look at what happened when I picked for myself? I mean, not like I _chose_ to have Moscovitz be the one I loved, but I freely fell in love with him on my own, _without_ any encouragement from anyone, including him. And Moscovitz certainly is _not_ the best of men. There were lots of qualities I didn't even _like_ about him.

Whatever. Details aside, there could be a really fantastic, eligible, appropriate man out there for me. Grandmere's already done most of the hunt for me, so really, why _not_ look?

So maybe I ought to just put myself out there.

It's the right time for it.

* * *

_May 1  
Home_

It's frustrating that it's not actually warm outside yet. The winter is being stubborn.

I don't really have all that much time to go out for long strolls to take in the weather and stuff. Maybe it's _because_ of that that I wish the weather would be nicer. It's so depressing that what little time I spend outside is so dreary and cold.

I look forward to going back to Genovia.

Finals in three weeks.

* * *

_June 14  
Home in Genovia!_

I met someone today. Someone who appealed to me.

We had a new post-doctoral scholar join our lab today. His name is Paul, and he's from Cambridge. He's very nice, well-spoken, and handsome. More than half of the women in our lab are in crush with him.

So _that_'s kind of depressing, considering that Paul is also seven years older than I. And I think he's got a thing for Yvette. (who, by the way, I was totally right about! A week ago she'd broken up with her boyfriend of two years and I _told_ Henri that thought she'd be snatched up right away! And it's looking that way!)

So he'll most likely be taken. But still! How exciting! Someone who made me smile. And kind of mushy inside.

It doesn't surprise me that he's a nerd. I think Michael must have unstopped a dam when we started dating. Maybe I ought to go and haunt the ESSG campus and look for my very own cute scientist.

I am staying quite busy this summer; Father has put me on two committees, both with members of parliament that are extremely difficult to work with. It's times like these when I wonder if he really loves me, or wants me to feel as put out as he does sometimes with me. If it is some form of revenge, he's hit the mark; I am ready to _kill_ these people.

To think that I will one day work with these people on a _daily_ basis. Oh dear.

* * *

_June 18  
Home_

Dinner tonight with a handsome eligible Viscount who despises cats. I allowed myself to admire his very fine shoulders and that was about it. If only he didn't despise cats. I don't even remember how I found out about it but again just every thing in me that was picky last year was dragged out of the corner my mind, and there I was again, being critical and uninterested.

I'll get over myself. I promise.

* * *

_June 22  
Home_

Dinner tonight better. And I was better. I have a date for Friday night!

* * *

_June 26  
Home_

The date was marvelous. We had absolutely gorgeous French cuisine tonight. After a very pleasant dinner, David took me dancing, and we had a quiet, pleasant walk home. At the door, he gave me a polite (but quite lovely, I tell you!) kiss on the cheek.

All very elegant, gorgeous, and appropriate.

I'm feeling particularly ugly tonight. Not to say that I was, but all the same. When you're a princess, it doesn't really matter how pretty or unpretty you are, does it? While David was an absolutely charming companion, I do wonder whether or not he'd even give me a second glance had we seen each other on the street.

Honestly, I could look like Paris Hilton or Paris Hilton's dog, it doesn't matter.

What does?

I confess: I've been thinking about Michael's words again. You know, the ones about how I was a brat.

I've tried to be a better person. And it makes me feel weird to think that I'm wondering if I _am_ a better person. It's not like I can go up to Michael and ask him to evaluate me as a human being again. And it's almost as if _good_ people don't _wonder_ if they're good; they just keep on going and _being_ good.

Never this self-conscious "Am I there yet?" bullshit.

And it looks like I've once again found a way to depress myself. Great.

Another date with David in a week. Let's hope I'm less stupid. It's too soon, isn't it. I think it is.

* * *

_June 28  
Home_

A well-earned break at the spa. I am so very happy to be here.

I got a facial and a hot stone massage, and I am feeling _so_ much more relaxed. I look forward to getting a mud bath and exfoliating treatment tomorrow.

I should feel guilty about skipping out on my duties, but frankly, I don't care right now.

I am alone. I suppose I should have asked Maddie or Grandmere along; Grandmere is beside herself with Summer Ball preparations. Maddie is having an especially difficult time of it with her latest, Kevin.

But I didn't _want_ to be around people right now. Lab life is frustrating. In experiments, in everything.

Not that I ever expected Paul to look at me _that_ way, but I don't know what's worse: his thinking I'm just really way too young to be treated like an adult, or way too princess-like to be treated like a normal labmate.

I've noticed it before. I got around it; my labmates had _so_ much more experience in the lab, and I was just so curious that they got over the princess thing pretty fast. They do treat me like a kid sister at times, but that's normal. They treat the other undergrad in the lab, Louise, even worse; she _just_ got started this year.

And I understand that I _am_ younger than them all, but still! It frustrates me that they all feel that they can't talk about dates or drinking stories in front of me because they have no wish to "corrupt" me. And it's startling how they get nervous I'll have them beheaded if they voice political opinions that differ from mine. We don't live in _that_ kind of government.

Granted, I'm not wanting to go up to Paul or anyone and _prove_ any sort of womanliness about myself. I'm not that stupid. But it's frustrating. It's just like how now, in parliament, I am either completely dismissed or sucked up to.

This is a situation where being a normal person without a reputation or title would be nice.

I miss Lilly and Michael. They never treated me with any particular sort of deference. No special treatment from Michael, to be sure.

* * *

_June 30  
Home_

Lilly arrives in a week!!!!!!!!!!! Oh I get smiley when I think of her being here.

It's just great, knowing she'll be here so soon. We've been talking on the phone, of course. But it's not the same. I just can't wait to see her in person, to sit with her in quiet corners, in loud cafes, just anything.

I miss the intimacy, the confidence, the judgmental looks she gives me. I miss the fact that Lilly acknowledges every aspect of my life, from being a princess, to being a student who sucks at calculus, to the person who spent seven hours trying to get a separation and _still_ did not succeed.

This visit will be so awesome.

* * *

_July 2  
Home_

Date with David again. Sadly, no chemistry, but for what it's worth, he's a nice guy with whom I enjoy spending time. Once we broke the second date barrier, he was more willing to be more casual, and chatty. We saw a strange French film that neither of us particularly liked. This was the best thing that could have happened. We spent the rest of the evening picking it apart, talking about other movies we'd seen that we liked more.

And wouldn't you know it, he loves old caper films too! For me, it's McQueen and Dunaway in _Thomas Crowne Affair_, of course. He's partial to _How to Steal a Million_, and I have to admit that I adore that one too.

He loves eating chocolate cheesecake, which I forgive him for, as watching his intense enjoyment just makes me giggle. He looks so intense!

David's in his third year at Supaero in Toulouse and is therefore a huuuuuge intense space geek. Really intense into Star Trek. (He deplored my never having watched any of the series and nearly spit his coffee when I posited that was it not just like _Star Wars_? I know. I'm mean, but he's just so fun to tease!)

I adore him. Completely and utterly. Now if only I could feel attracted to him…

How? How can I not feel attracted? Handsome, witty, clever. He's got the total package.

But I am determined _not_ to feel disappointment on that score. It was still absolutely wonderful to be around him. After all, he let me go on and on about my work at the ESSG and about my classes.

He makes me laugh with his lame jokes, his "aw shucks" shrug. I spent all of today smiling over it.

Grandmere is beyond relieved that I've been happy with him. David's the viscount of some small district in France, and hence quite suitable. Honestly, though it shouldn't matter what she thinks, it's just so much easier to be around a man that she approves of.

As for David's own feelings. I don't know. I'm confused. I think he really likes being with me for _me_ and I'm glad of it. He talks with me so easily, laughs with me, teases me…but…I don't want to think about it. I know I should. He's quite a gentleman, so it's not like he's pushing anything on me, and he's been appropriately vague in his sentiments towards me thus far. But he's got such a _warm_ smile. And when he touches my shoulder to point something out, I swear I feel something. I think he likes me.

Ok, so maybe that's a small sour note, because personally, I've been in that position. And I'd hate to think that he'd come to care for me in a way I cannot reciprocate.

Getting ahead of myself, again. Ha. I think too much. And I think too highly of myself.

I like him. He likes me. That's good enough for now.

* * *

_Later_

After all, I could come to fall in love with him. He's just so _great _to be around. And he's such a good person.

* * *

_July 6  
Limo, on the way home for the Best Night Ever_

Lilly's here! She arrived early this morning, somewhat tired from her travel, but all the same happy and cheerful as always. After a quick breakfast, I left her to unpack and nap for a bit while I went into lab.

Tonight, she, David, and I went to the Royal Ballet Corp's premiere of _Romeo and Juliet_. It was gorgeous, but of course neither Lilly nor David is a very huge ballet fan. They had _eye contact_ conversations, but were still very polite and looked attentive enough.

For me, the performance was mesmerizing. The principal ballerina was a woman I'd personally selected for a fellowship, and it was so gratifying to see her up there, performing so well! Also, I'm glad to see that as talented as she was as she started, she's managed to also learn; she demonstrates more emotive movements now than she used to, and her skill level is also very much enhanced from her time at the Royal Ballet School.

As for my friends. Well. When I look back on this summer, I think I'll remember _this_ time. Because it's working out to be everything I'd hoped it'd be.

As expected, Lilly completely worships David. She thinks he's a perfect match for me, and she's just so very happy to see _me_ this happy. And I'm thrilled that she enjoys him as much as I do. Honestly, if you'd seen the three of us tonight, it really would have looked like we'd been friends forever. Lilly isn't usually comfortable with my "royal friends", as she calls them. While she's acquainted with Maddy through her parents, Lilly has never really kicked off her metaphorical shoes and settled in for as comfortable an outing as we had tonight.

Seriously, how could life get any better than this?

I'll be in parliament for the next two days. The Summer Ball is two evenings away. And yes, David is attending, but not as my date, but as a guest. Because that's how it's going to be: S.L.O.W.

And in _three _days, Lilly and I leave for Greece! Weee!!

Honestly, I flip my diary back to just a few weeks ago, when I was depressed about this, and then that. Really, anything. And now things are just so fantastic. I think I was just lonely. Not to trivialize my feelings from before, but really, it's wonderful to be something other than depressed or obsessive about things.

Good riddance, unpleasant feelings! I've got three weeks left to enjoy this summer, and I'm determined to throw everything I've got into it!


End file.
